noise

i hurl my noise fearlessly into the void

so that I might know that I exist.

echo, it comes back to me

small round rock, pressed into the crease of my palm 

i relinquish it to the tide with a mighty ugh

The waves, already churning, will bring it back 

again for another palm another day

i fight gravity itself, wishing, i think, 

for my small ball to take flight just this time. 

it soars, peaks, changes direction and

plummets to the earth again, and again

as far as I travel many years many roads

still I travel home, ever more whole and real than before

until I travel out again

the lines I seek 

sure and straight 

defy me always,

disappoint.

in their place I find only

circles

endless, eternal. ever and always

a little

mysterious

©2018 Donna Jo Wallace

10-19-2018