The Swirl That Would Not Settle

The Swirl That Would Not Settle

It pulls me in, this restless turning field,

A spinning thought that never finds its end,

Pink fire twisting through a depth of black,

As if the night itself begins to bend.

There is no centre here, no place to stand,

Only the motion tightening its hold,

A quiet storm that never makes a sound,

Yet speaks in ways that feel both sharp and cold.

Green lines cut through like veins of something real,

A pulse that flickers through the endless flow,

A trace of order in a broken spin,

A sign of life beneath what we do not know.

I try to follow where the current leads,

But every path dissolves before it forms,

It shifts, it slips, it will not be contained,

A mind unbound by any human norms.

This is the place where thoughts refuse to sleep,

Where every answer fractures into more,

Where meaning stretches far beyond its shape,

Then scatters softly on an unseen shore.

And still I watch, because I cannot turn,

There is a pull that will not let me go,

A strange communion with a moving truth,

That lives within the depths I cannot show.

Perhaps it mirrors something deep inside,

A place where stillness never truly stays,

Where every quiet moment holds a storm,

And every calm is lost within the maze.

So let it turn, this endless, vivid tide,

Let colour speak where words would only fail,

For in its chaos there is something true,

A hidden path beneath the shifting veil.

Art By Marie381uk

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