The earth spins on its axis.
The world turns on a point.

Within echo, the dark is a cave.
Within body, the ground is a fall.
Within time, events bind as story.

Within frame, self inhabits world.
The world is everything returning.

The felt evades its own account,
bound within inhabitance.

A tree falls,
bereft of listener.

The timber rots,
without a use.

The ship sinks,
into the sea she sailed.

Wood returns,
ground receives.

What is determined, will;
What is willed, determines.

Self persists as paradox:
ego wound in ambivalence.