Poetry: Ouroboros

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)

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