You gaze—yet truth has slipped the frame,
A tide too vast for thought to claim.
In vaulted halls where echoes fail,
Sound stalks like smoke, too thin to trail.
We dream in frames we cannot fuse,
See fractured signs and call them truths.
The sun must drown for stars to speak,
While cycles turn, and silence reaps.
Eyes half-shut miss the arc of skies,
And worship forms as if they're wise.
But those who cling will hear the chime—
Again and again.
Time breaks its crown, then reigns in rhyme.
This poem explores how truth often escapes us—not because it is hidden, but because we look for it in rigid, familiar forms. Again and Again reflects on the cycles of time, the illusions we cling to, and the subtle beauty that reveals itself only when we let go of certainty. It suggests that wisdom comes not from mastering time or truth, but from recognizing their ever-changing, rhythmic nature.
