Deep depths, deep breaths:
the moist cool of subterranean ocean,
the whirlpool of imperceivable motion.
Around and down: drowning in serenity.
Down and around: groundless in infinity.
The silence-sound, yet a noiseless whir,
throbbing, pulsing heartbeat blur.
Memories dead; hopes fled. All Now:
Now sweet sleep, gift endowed,
Now deep dreams, jeweled shroud,
Now the sound stilled, woe killed,
soul and spirit to the brim filled
with peace and waiting,
contentedness unabating.
The otherworldly underground mound
where Life and Death meet and meld
into one elixir of moon- and sun-weld.
the blinding black lulls and rocks,
the stalling stir. Perfect Paradox.
Paradox Paradise; no Truth or Lies,
only the slow progression of eyes
seeing unseen and hearing unheard,
babbling hush of mumbled words.
The Womb, the Walls, the Well,
within Her the Universe swells
until Time sputters More out
with a sacred sacred spout.
But all that once formed and floated
safe within Her safe-store
shall return to the Sea of Beginning,
back unto the sleep-filled spinning swimming,
enter/exit through the squeezing Door
to begin again the Cycle episoded.

Weaving, leaving: the Circle of Time, not on a line;
Up for clear Air only to plunge back into slime Brine.