The Daily Rounds Poem by Paul Brookes

Circles cycling frenetic spinning tops,
we all, it seems, just go round; trapped revolutions.
like the moon round the earth and the earth round the sun and everything round the spiral galaxy ad infinitum

so we spiral like DNA
a double helix
circulating so much stellar gas
as light as a nimbus and ethereal as an aureole
casting a brief flare.

illumination comes too late
and we see it in our dying eyes
just as circles recycling.