Pulse racing the heart to the end –
–Of a line that has no beginning
It turns back on me as I chase
Raindrops back to heaven
Soil into earth.
We bury ourselves in mist
Unable to see through the veil
Over eyes blind with vision.
It keeps us going
Faster until until friction
Builds static sweat on flesh
Masking senses and clearing minds
We consume ourselves in the
planetary drift – a line without end.
Circling as the wheel spins out
Our fates into the pattern
Of seasonal shift –
Bodily transformation of eruption
And stagnation that stops –
Repeats anew as we eat
Our tails growing.
Emily O’Donnell
(2012)
