Life is always a circle.
From darkness                                      we are born,
eyes wide                                                            w­ith wonder.
The wildness                                                         ­         in us stirs
as we crawl and                                              walk and then run
down                                                         ­               the arc,
blind to all                                                              ­   that comes.
Life is                                                               ­ always a circle.
To darkness                                                         we return,
curious now of                                   what lies ahead,
running, walking,                            crawling blindly
into Death's                               womb,
  closing to a point.