Circling (Poem)

Blinded and circling
Resting near a humming warmth
Her clock is winding down
The hourglass that can’t be turned
The minister that can’t be bribed

The days are colder with thinner skin
The wintry passage of a distant sun
Her mind made into a restless wanderer
Seeking what she cannot say

I help however I can
My mind poised on a pinhead
Gathered, reflective
Where is the central star?
The light that burns away our bodies
That shines unique behind each
Pair of eyes

“Just this person,” the old teachers say
But what of this has no end?
What of this never began?

Blinded and circling
Who is it that sees
Sees this blindness?
What is it that watches
From the still center of seeing?

No circle

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