Is your memory a circle,
  or a trip straight out and back

A beginning and an ending,
  or one continuous track

Do you see the same things going up,
  that you pass when coming down

Is retention sealed and programmed,
  by things going round and round

Is there a finish where you stop,
  or perhaps just one last verse,
  
Or a rewind back to square one,
  the past to again rehearse

This flux of motion holds you tight,
  your perception never free,

Serving both to deceive and lie,
—in a false infinity

(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)