2011

2011

The line is drawn, the circle squared, the time
swings round upon itself, a pendulum
that mortal hands and minds cannot arrest.

We are done with guarantees of Heaven
and Hell is not our fate, except in dreams
and the unanswered smoke of prophecy.

Dogma fails us, so does Faith, unworthy
guides when the world is ground to dust and we
must live without a net across the void.

Unknitting, time lets loose a flood of days,
tumbling the rooms where we store our sleepless
harvest – fear grown huge and all-devouring.

There is no guide, no chart, no formula
to keep us safe. Our heart’s the Map, we are
our own Star and Compass, our own way home.

We are circles: measure us where you will.
We end in our beginning, that place where
dying Alpha and Omega give birth.