We'll never pass this way again, because you can't step into the same river twice, and because when you come back to where the Earth was a year ago, it has moved on, down a long, spiral track.
SpiralsLike a top slowly spinning, the Earth wobbles ‘round,
As it circles the center, and plunges on down,
Just following blindly the bore that’s been set,
In a long looping circle we haven’t closed yet.
The edges spin slowly, the center quite fast,
In a movement of endless enormities vast,
Whose masses are tangled with webbing unseen,
That tugs them and trips them and all in between.
Then out from this puddle of bright creamy sheen,
For stretches unmindful of time in between,
The clean empty nothing that lets one see far,
But allows only cold silent shadows of stars,
To wander forever in search of a mind,
And will, full of wonder that helps it unwind,
The clockwork that’s ticking, as time travels on,
Toward an eventually bright mental dawn.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . October 4, 2008
Thank You Bob ... Tears, Friend, Tears ...