The Coil

Reposted to add the voiceover I forgot.

As we look along the spiral line
paid out around us, how we strain
to apprehend our apogee
before we near the coil’s anchored end.

Oh, but where we stand,
with sight occluded by the sand
that ribbons through the hourglass,
what perspective we might claim
can only stumble in the rain
of transience, although at times
our hands may light upon
the endless curve that girds us.

But when the hammer strikes
the glass and breaks
the coil’s pellucid prison;
when eternity’s inrushing tide
alights in spate on unobstructed eyes
like sheets of gold—

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Photo by Aiden Rosewell on Unsplash

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This poem was generated by the author’s human mind with zero AI / LLM involvement.