I see who I reflect
through these years.
I see him
walking in circles,
running to catch up;
a frantic chase
where he places his past
between present and future.
It's not supposed to be
this way.
It's not supposed to work
this way.
This, as is his way,
he doesn't go far.
But he burns more calories
than if he stood still
staring at a wall.
I see him, now. He has advanced.
He's moved on.
Yes, he walks in circles,
but the origin from which he orbits;
it continues to move. And his radius
ebs and grows with every step.
he has never traced the same circle twice,
though he criss-crosses his lines frequently.
Yes, he'd be further, faster,
progressing n a straight line.
But these circles are far
He is an artist, after all.

narrative poem written on 02-20-2016 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem


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