The compass needle swings, restless, Searching for the true north,Between bias, a cage of certainties,And beauty, a freedom uncontained. What truth lies in the arc?The pull of roots, the lure of wings,Or the quiet hum of the in-between, Comforted. numb to reality’s weight? The mirror hangs at the extremities, Leaving the bloated middle A void, … Continue reading The Compass Swings
Ring of Fire 