Cycles: Poem

Cycles

Cycles of life spin, in eternal rotation
Like the sun; words, wounds
And weary worlds speak in
Samsara rhyme;
Eternal reconversion. Thus it
Happens time after time.

Look into the sky, pierce the clouds
Look beyond and see
Is the mind a deity?
Who is it that sees?
Is it me? Or is it noone?
Do not dissect the mind: ah, it is
Already all done.

I can touch and feel
As long the blood courses in my veins;
As long as there is some life in me.
I can touch and feel and see:
Ah, in perfect synonimy.

Cycles of life spun, spin, sing.
Cycles  becomes cycles and then
The weaver loses his soul within
The poet finds the words
On the path to nowhere;
And cycles begin again, somewhere.

Copyright: Rani Turton