Everything travels on its way

Pouring, trickling, flowing, sliding,

Merging, Surging

Soaring…

Flitting, circling, swooping,

Landing, resting;

Crumbling, rotting, feeding, hosting,

Tumbling 

From gas to liquid to solid

From hardened to melting

To air to breeze to bluster to storm

To pelting rain 

To river to sea

And back again…

Ebb and flow, 

To and fro, 

Compost and grow;

Pain to peace and peace to pain, 

Round and round and round we go –

Stars birth and burst and leave their holes;

Flowers bloom

And are gone too soon;

The pigeons flock to roost on burnt-out rafters;

The clouds adorn the sun;

This moment too cannot be caught,

But slips like sunbeams by…

Everything travels on its way;

Wood to flame to ember to ash;

We lose and lose and lose

And yet the pain becomes such peace

And the peace becomes our pain…

We circle and we cycle,

Spiral out and in again. 

The pigeons have not roosted yet,

Still paying their homage to the setting sun.

I stand here and I know that still I am not done

As I circle and I spiral through the peaks and the lows,

On and on and on I go…