Fire crackling ~ embers burning  
Little sparks wafting
in the torrent of heated air,
   A vortex
                   a place
                                  a whirlpool
Sometimes One looks down and sees
crystal waters shoaling
and often the Sun
                             glints like diamonds
off the white capped tips of cresting waves
      mayhap the wheeling singularity,
those self same vertices and that jumbled matrix
Twisted and shorn
                                 Lovingly the hand
runs over skin freshly
                                   bereft and forlorn
    hair today and gone again
                                                 who would have thought,
Taken and riven
those sightless eyes watching.
    Does He need to ken  
Nay He knows it already.
    Harried fingers rubbed raw
                                              Strings taken
pulls attempted  
works Only on those
who think in a rut  
                           immured by experience
to be a way
Who knew what He did
                                     she certainly didnae

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