Platonic Thoughts in Non-Euclidean Space

How can my thoughts
so utterly simple,
yet so complex
at its own?

My thoughts form
platonic solids
in a non-euclidean space,
a space of curvature
and wonders.

The sphere,
my perfect little ball of paradoxes;
You are so simple,
yet so complex
like platonic solids themselves…

I’m living in hidden hemispheres;
how can I escape my personal horizons
if my thoughts are
perfect platonic solids
dancing on spheres?

Holistic Reductionism in the Spiral of Recursion

Everything consists of
single systems
that is built up
by a larger system.

But a universe
of fractal-like patterns
can’t be split
in a simple way…

…for where will you cut it off
if you even can’t determine
of what is the background
and what’s the figure?

How would you think about a tree
whose branches got cut off?
– Where does it end?
– Where does it even start?

You can go up and down
right and left,
and you’ll always be exactly there
for you’re on a perfect sphere.

The Mystery of the Sphere

You are so perfect,
because wherever I look
you are utterly the same.

You have no flaws,
no distortions
nor hills.

Everything you are
is pure perfection
in the most beautiful means…

…for your symmetries
are countless,
even infinite.

My dear,
you are a sphere,
a mystery of its own…

…yet a perfect simplification
of a very complex universe.

Dancing on Möbius Strips

The music of paradoxes sounds
to the dizzy dance of infinite rounds.
Minimalistic rhythms and simple melodies
form incredible symphonies.

Can you hear the sound,
feel the contradiction
coalescing on your ground?

Can you see the twisted
in your imagination,
the infinitely nested?

The music shapes
what once were shapeless,
creates uncountable ways
to form the formless.

Dancing on twists,
one never rests,
’cause infinity is a thing
that can always sing.

Inside a Klein Bottle

Walking a wire
of blind desire
makes you a fool
to think you are not just a used tool
to measure infinity’s endlessness
from the inside out
to the outside in
in a really twisted sin.

But how can you stop
to walk to the top
and at the same time
reach the bottom of this endless game?
Inside out
and outside in,
what’s direction even about
if you never win?

The deepest abyss
gives birth to the highest hills.
And in the darkness of the inside out
light arises out of abysmal void.