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I’m looking for paths.

THE TURNING

The turning

Every thing turns

and spins in its

order.

What?

That?

I’ve been out,

looking

at the stars, pondering

the turning — and now, the great waves, that roar and roll, persistently.

Listening

to the water —

the turning and churning, waves

like a river, riffling.

THE TURNING

It’s turning, that

tide, a worldly

whirl, that

I sense, this moment.

And this dark

morning, I wonder

about that dawn;

she’s now far away —

but coming, in brilliant

light, later this morn

as she did, yesterday

looking east in

the rising. Seeing

that was a turning

for me, pondering

that movement

the larger shifting,

the patterning,

as she shows

herself, that long

path to her,

golden petals

to the embodiment

of light that

she is.

THE TURNING

That’s one path —

seeing the turning.

THE TURNING

When you think about the Turning, you might consider — yours:
Turning — the spin of your brand, the whirling world around you, your whorl of family and children — the Turning, round you.

For indeed, you are your Circle, like other interlocking rings, they ripple out, connecting back to you, or to which ring you might resonate.

TIM

working@OseanStudios


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