Poetry for Air Spiral

Air Spiral

By Michael Carey

Nothing ever is

everything is always

becoming

smoke, a torch, a lamp,

curving, spiraling,

the seen and the unseen,

order and chaos.

You can't step twice

into the same river;

time keeps curving

back on itself,

back but

never in circles.

It is a ride

that never ends,

that never begins,

a marble on a slide,

falling and falling,

but never

reaching ground.

It is a tornado

sweeping

all before it,

leaving the old

and broken

in its wake

and in the middle

holding it all,

controlling it all,

nothing, a moment,

eternal calm.

Time is a river

in a dry bed

flowing forever

away. Right now,

you are not who

you were

a moment ago.

A moment ago

is now something else.

Now is no longer now.

It is you looking

into the present,

into the past

and the future

wondering

where on earth

they went.