One Plan 3/21/2011
The world spins
some more in its universal moon-trailed career
and all around, oblivious, the stars and moons
and constellations do silent battle in the clear
and bitter war of gods as big as spoons
(little and big), the might of man instills no fear
or awe when met with worlds the shape and size of doom.
The world spins
and moves a man a million miles more than he had
feet to carry him, rusty-knuckled kneeling down
in dirt as heavy as his heavy head (no crown)
wrapped in the planet's dusty arms, weak as a lad's.
The world spins,
wearing weary circles in no(every)thing
like itself, round and round,
all one making,
but blind to the circle itself, until the
One (re)makes all.
And on the world spins.
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