Endless Circle Poem by James Walter Orr

I see the sun will not come out;
the skies continue gray.
The dead leaves rustle all about:
lost souls that went astray.

The lonesome whistle of a train
that sounds so far away,
reminds me that I can't retain
the things that will not stay.

Time circles like my night-time fear
around this wounded beast.
When all my harbored ghosts appear,
will I become their feast?

Exchange my pillow for your breast,
My hearth-side for your heat.
Present that of which I'm obsessed,
to make my life complete.

A circle has no open side
and therefore has no door.
The endless ebb and flow of pride,
abrades me to my core.

Like aging suns, life's loves go out,
and total grows the dark.
Obverse obliterates the doubt,
and swamps, at last, the spark.