Shapes

Shapes

There’s a triangle in the mind’s eye
Each point leads to the next
And then back to the first
A cycle of spinning
Like a well oiled, finely tuned
Rotary engine.
When it hums it’s sweet music
But like all machines,
It will break down with time.

There are circles at the temple of the world
One ring completely inside the next
And on and on.
On the inside there are secrets
Not yet revealed
A paragon of existence
That we can know of it
Yet not be allowed to enter
Forever traveling the curve.

There are stars above and beyond
Countless and nameless
Endless points of light that exist
Beyond the circles
Outside our triangle lines.
Infinite possibilities
Manifested in two dimensions
As simple shapes
We are too primitive to describe.

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About ShySpark

I blog, I tweet, I eat cheeseburgers, and sometimes I take pictures. But mostly I just write poetry...
This entry was posted in Poetry, Unwrapped and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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