spirals

there is something
to the idea of nothing

to the idea of
everything and nothing
being wed
both alive and dead

we are so close to the
fire it is wet like water

she is so old and wise and small
she is infantile even, no one at all

he is so depressed and down
he smiles through shades of brown

it is all such a cycle
of neverending
oneness

i don't try to understand
it

i just be it

back and around
and around

again.