Nothing Stands Still

Everything is in motion
Whirling, whirling, whirling
Round, round, round
Nothing is at rest
Not the body, not the mind
Not the sun, not the stars
Not fortune, not destiny
Each has its space-time
In which it appears
And then disappears
In between thrashing around
Blindly, but not on its own whim.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s