Cycles of Circles

This weekend has been spent visiting a town I left almost ten years ago. I lived here almost 20 years. Has been wonderful catching with some old friends, old haunts and introducing my partner to some favorite restaurants.

It got me thinking about this piece.

In chaos there is meaning.

The meaning is there is no meaning.


The weirding of the word

Is a lie to its content.


A portion of the great Ain Soph.

The mind grapples what it cannot conceive.

In the no-thingness of chaos

Is contained the birth of all.



Born of chaos,


Kicking and screaming

As chaos


It home.


All cycles,

All possible,


I climb the tree to live.


Looking out

Over the great mass of non-being

I see

In the distance

Another tree.


Looking out from the tree

Is me…




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