Face to face

I am a river.
Allow me to flow.

If I were a sea, it would have been dead,
If I were a lake, it would have run out.
If I finally acknowledge that I have
The correct shape of known volume,
At first, I would turn into a cube,
And then into a square plate.

And I refuse to talk about anything
That has only two dimensions,
Even though mine and your life are one circle
Or a section of the two-
Like that indivisible line that connects,
In something that resembles number eight that never stops,
And lasts forever.

I refuse, therefore, even on a paper,
To recognize the absence of higher dimensions.
The world is a spindle.
In nature, everything has its own cycles
And the ball rolls.

People know it, where I was born
Because of the climate
The summer always comes after spring,
Therefore, it has always seemed to me that we were closer to God,
Than those people from the North faraway,
Who in the absence of the heat,
Made themselves believe that they
Do not need it, at all.

Now I'm somewhere in Africa and it's burning under my feet.

When the beasts come for me, I will tell them the truth.
I'll tell them that in the end, I'm not finite.
This is just one of the phases of my form,
And that I had never become,
Nor that I have the intention to stop.

This is just one of the phases of my form.
This is just one of the phases of my form.