Discussion Group

Dark beans stain a ring that frames
the waving, wooden lines, recording years 
of outward growing with fluid yearning
until a man stopped its becoming and set the form
that is the being of the static grains and seams.



This form, that holds remembered growing, 
supports the pages overlapping, displaying symbols
and patterns mapping and recording my efforts,
disappearing with daily changing without revealing
a stable knowing of what could be to set me free.



It was turning away from pages dancing
before my eyes, the symbols smearing,
that I beheld the simple ring, suggesting
another time and place, not so far away,
now shining before my mind's eye's gaze.



The ring, a blood red sun descending.
The grain, the shimmering, swelling waves below.
Gulls crying, the light dying before the night,
the night that ended my becoming and set the form
that is the being of the man I am.