Cycles...

I’m feeling a tingle,
A dream and a wonder
About the ways that life presents,
The dreams that come true and then die.

Every moment of breathing
Invites another pain to the lungs and
Heart. But living is breathing,
Beating of the muscle and
Worship of the existence of life
No worries no pains no wonder no moments
Just clouded together dreams and everlasting
Ideas that are only illusions of faith.

Worry is paramount
And dreams are weak representations
Of the facts, because the only true
Thing you’ll ever know is that
Life dies and death is born into life
Cycles of existence
Cycles of repetition of the all.

Turn me around and around,
Around and circle and around the world,
Around the moment, around the dream,
Around the facts around the life
The cycle is everlasting in its predictability
I know that this will end and begin anew
But I don’t deny that I hope that I’ll break the
Path,
Shatter
The set path
Break the way life and all is.

I know that this hope is dead, this
Idea that it won’t end is wrong,
I know I know I know I know.
Nothing is ever, lasting.

My worries are justified.
Nothing is waking in this linear line,
Nothing stirs in this desert of hope.
Life lives,
Death dies.
All is forgotten in the next
Cycle.