Circles within circles chase around the mind Forming balls of confusion, hard to unwind. Tangled dreams, ragged thoughts, Recycled ideas and beliefs that had been bought. Around and around they fly like spinning wheels of time Confusing the senses with what is yours and what is mine. Act Two begins with the freshness of wind Changing directions; to end is to begin. When hope rises slowly like a morning mist The sun shines obliquely with a sudden twist. The air is clear like a painter’s light, Hope blossoms full on a moonlit night. Frightening simplicity. Is complex comfort? Is comfort complex? Take away the me And what do you find? Memories of emotions left behind. October 2020
Written as an exercise within a printed labyrinth, thanks to Wind River Retreats.