unwinding the binding, the tape still rewinding

unstuck in my head, nothing’s lost for finding

days and weeks and months at the fulcrum

spinning and winning and telling you i’m all done

my hands are stone and this fossil’s forgotten bone

then the stars peek through I hoot and I’m singing  home

not old enough yet to really feel the weight

not young enough Seth to really fill the plate

i’m caught in the middle, squawking like a raven

hoarse on the battlements and  laughing for the maven

of blood and mud and the lightning bolt and midnight

i try to catch my breath but she’s already out of sight

i sleep beneath the sands but find nary a worm

whispering to the Maker, wondering when this kid gets his turn

who was  i then and what am I now

still don’t know the riddle but this fiddle-crab can never bow

so below I wake and below I brew my mistakes

hard slinging the ringing and hoping to catch a potter’s break

as above so below

a promise is kept

but only in the undertow

song of the east, dance in the west

never mind my science, this is how the path is kept.