spiral

A spiral spinning, deeping…charged
within the minds of men.
A viral thinning, reaping…large
a kin to find again.

A stone on water, lightly cast,
betrays a wary glimpse.
A crone and daughters, nightly splash,
of fey and scary nymphs.

But time does not betray its trust,
as we of will have dared.
A rhyme besot will lay and rust,
if free, and still unshared.

The growing tree, debris and dust,
appeared when time was new.
The knowing fee – release our lust –
is feared as morning dew.

For ever forward, deeping…charged,
we spin onto our way.
A spiral grinning, reaping….large,
begins anew each day.

Though whole we seem, by rock and root,
our spirit lays in two.
The role and dream, the sock and boot,
we fear it…fey and moot.

Yet in our soul, a voice speaks free,
the lurid gift of man.
Beginning whole, a choice we be…
and heard across the span.

A new age dawns, and carries on,
the spinning of the soul.
A doe and fawn, that greets the dawn,
lie grinning…they are whole.