A spectral form, not simple or complex,
A raging storm and yet a silent sea,
The medium sustained, all things connects,
Its nature not attained, none ere shall see.
In cycles it repeats the changing tide,
A rhythm’s living beats yet all distinct,
As winter wind across the glen does glide,
And summer, pined, with present now is linked.
The constant known to all is truly change,
This contrast shown from moment to the next.
A tapestry results from constant change,
Connection thus results in minds perplexed.
The ghastly form of time will never cease
Dynamic, linking rhyme holds naught of peace.
Written November 27,2006