Stairs Into A Whirlpool.

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Blog Post About This Poem – Read This Post Before Reading This Poem.

Lights from stars, crescent moon and distant planets crept,
Into the night spreading dreams, hopes, and giggles in sleep,
Wonder if any of those souls realize that this too is reality,
A poet in protest sat wondering, what reality truly means.

The cycles of life, ah’ very little humanity realizes,
Oh’ they come to each of us through time on the same stage,
Actors differ, theme the same the lost souls and new ones,
Ah’ they hide well the repetition as we all gain and lose.

The poet through many cycles of his life went,
The childhood, adolescent, youth and middle age,
New times, new places, new faces ah’ all went well,
But in each cycle one part failed to materialize; love.

At every cycle to a point he reached, with a face,
Love progressed a bit as a bit more he matured,
But the faces in every cycle, Oh’ to his love shown,
Fake smiles and fabricated stories and built one step.

And at every cycle of life the previous step built he took,
A new face to his life comes and the mockery continued,
New cycle and came a new face that completed the stairs,
Into a whirlpool where turned and turned her image.

Back and forth through every step he went with the aim,
Not to fail as no more faces he can take for in his soul,
The definition of love and companionship took her face,
Oh’ she loves the poetry, as she fills every line of them.

Oh’ she loves the poetry, as whirlpool fills with her image,
And the swirling life at that point stuck as she loves the poetry,
Not the poet, the reality behind the poetry the one who wrote,
Her image in that whirlpool knowing there is no way out.

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Photo by Blake Barlow on Unsplash

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