Coming round, coming round
what is it that watches over me?
there is a something . . .
this I cannot fathom
not in my conception
not in my mind
a fact unfathomable
a large gaping gap
a void in my lap
always with me, but forgotten in life’s breeze
there it sits silently
a side of me I’ve never known
a something “more”
reaching for the void I’m at a loss
my hands fade, grasping does not take place
oh the unfathomable me
the mole of my mind
in a flash I lost it
the echo of my mind
searching so in the vacuous part
I lose myself
yes, self ceases within self
there in that pit, the self recedes
I become blackness
dark and menacing
within my self I am no self
God help me!
the horror greets me
making the great “stop”
immovable in the blackness
I – that is, me – comes to a halt
there the void dominates me
what horror
and then . . . in the great dark water
I see a glimpse
a former me, a memory of me
a me that is beckoning in the waves
a self that was . . . or is
unfolding my mind, a new self comes to me
a self I already knew
forgotten in life’s breeze
