Moving In Circles (Poetry)

It keeps coming round
to the same old thing
caught in a pattern
a ring in a ring
coiled tight as a spring

There’s no escaping
life’s thin silken noose
winding its serpent
to fight is no use
no way to cut loose

Loops have no corners
no gaps to slip through
a collar, a crown
a gold coin or two
simple-circle-true

Wheels turn within wheels
small cogs made to fit
machinery rolls
always in transit
the clock will not quit

Nought’s empty symbol
vowel’s artless ‘o’
our world in orbit
and God only knows
who made it so