Forever Reliving the Story of Living

The world was never formless
Or void. Massive but quiet,
Now, that would be more like it.

And it wasn’t a one-way
Ticket or perfect circle.
It’s always been commuting

Back and forth, between the way
Things started out and the way
Things seemed to fan out from there,

Never really achieving
Either extreme, a ragged,
Zig-zagging wake emerging

And dispersing on the face
Of the deep. Quiet, today.