Some Day Comes Back

For years I've spent my summers

In Valhalla, my winters
In Zion. In retrospect,
Difference isn't surprising,
But the sense of sameness is.
While nothing's ever the same,
Cyclicity emerges.

The world a simile is.
There is no true Valhalla,
Never a perfect Zion,
And none of those truly named
With those names ever the same
For one moment, but we're all
Nonetheless kin to ourselves.