circles
Crimson ultraviolet lust
And I could fill my head with sand
to sink to the bottom of the ocean
And wait for it land
Then soak me up
Like nothing more than soapy water splashed against a car
Over and over
Until we sparkle with diamonds in our eyes
And love in our hearts
Because maybe just then
We can finally realize that all good things come to an end
That it's worth it sometimes
To laugh until you cry
To feel the cold snow pressed up against every inch of your thigh
To love before you die
Just to lose it all
to black emptiness
All floating around in a space we call nothing
Like the inside of a closet before you turn on the light
Then you’re sucked up into life again
Before falling back down into dirt
Becoming apart of the ground and the soil until you’ve morphed into seeds
Into a tree
Then made back into that same closet
Its a cycle, like thinking in circles
Drawing in circles
Becoming nothing more than a piece of paper is what I deserve
So someone can draw on me a circle
Until I return to the ground to start all over again
Until I finally can realize
What it means to be alive and accept the endless circle of life
And love and loss and lust
And dark bitter unfaltering blackness until a star explodes big enough to end it all
Until we start again
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Mon 11th Jan 2021 14:48
Thanks for your 'like' on my most recent poem. I like your work too, the 'machinery of your mind'. IMO, the closing lines of this work are superb.
Does the human being actually 'morph into seeds' or soil? Mind or matter? Just asking.
I think the 'circle' is possibly the most illuminating and the most deceptive of all mathematical proofs versus imagination. Comfort or control has always been my conundrum.