Not What It Was or Is

I came upon a point accidentally
located at my destination
I was there until attracted to
the zero point not ringing any bells
not pinnable down in syllables
behind a veil of pearls not showing
particularities admitting no
definabilities over and over some
forever returning to form distinct
from the infinity point isolated
when I got there I was barely not
surrounded by every almost by
perennial passes of missing masses
more balanced than centered was
the ideal point a together one
lacking levity foresaking gravity
chewing up the cavities of brevity
repeating uniqueness creating the eldest
poking fingers in eyes tearjerking
the imperfect point the middle
of which hides your sad search
from all paths converging because
approaching is a worry encroaching pause
last success the first again hashing
the point of return into a rehash
of the point of the bending ending
like how the past was the past
but no more.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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