The Writers Voice
The World's
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The Top
by
Joe Rosochacki
As the top spins, spins effortlessly rotates, rotates
It comes again, again
Again as in times past ages past
When blues yields to red
Speed of photons decrease
End of daylight has at last, at last
Light from natures’ nuclear furnace does cease, does cease
As it has done through centuries
Apron of deep blue shroud the semi-spherical dome
As brilliant gems shed history throughout the night
PAST IS PRESENT, PRESENT PAST
We gaze in to times before we were, were we?
As in ancient infinity, it lives, lives shan’t perish
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