Spinning

Despite late praise and sly, misguided thoughts,
Despite the darkness and the gelid cold,
We manage to get by. What we are told
And what we know are disconnected plots
Within this story. Doctors give us shots
For other things, with penicillin – mold,
Such wonders from the future, but they hold
No cure for this, so we cut our own knots.

The signs appear, as we have seen before,
As many and as various as sins.
I forget some things, but remember more:
Between the noises and the light, noise wins
And, contemplating gestures that we store
For later use, we are the world which spins.

Our Hearts, Part 15