Into the wheel that burns...
Into the wheel that's blind and burns;
The wheel that yearns and overturns
We're born...
We are its forms,
Bound with a spirit ever deep and able
Blown in its throws into brightness,
Blown where it goes into darkness,
Thrown into thorns and turned towards scorn;
Made to mourn and conform to the dawn;
Haunted by the feel and by the feelings of forms -
Our fellow forms -
It uses for the forming of fresh forms
To fill the warm and harsher hollows of its storm...
A storm that stirs and stirs to grow;
It wants; it needs to feed to grow -
Amid the features of our woe -
Through all our scratching in the snow,
Our powers that we need to know -
To sow and fight with pride against consuming fires
Of everything we'll never know -
And never trust to know
So we can grow...
So we must always know -
Where we must yearn,
Where the wheel would burn -
To not be overthrown...
Where we are we; where we're alone
Where we are one; and what we have become
And may be what we may become -
We will be overcome, and overturned...
Oh we must be stern
To laugh and love and live through all the yearnings
Of the turnings
Of the blind, misguiding wheel that burns...
YOU ARE READING
Gathered on This Beach: Poems & Perspectives for a Converging World
Poesíaa student's writings, inspired by nature and science, and accumulated throughout the early days of the Internet, these writings explore expectations for the expressive 'convergence' to come. (revised edition 2014, with some alterations) ALT. BLURB: ...
