Round and round
Do we go,
But on what ground
 No one knows.

The threads are spinning
This way and that,
No one seems winning
 And nothing is calm or flat.

Old women spin
At their wheels,
Again do they pin
 Reasons and the feel.

By the patterns do
They abide,
And parallelisms do
 They often find.

Links between all,
Relayed in
Tales of tall,
Where many a people
Have been.

The patterns are spun
Again and again,
 We end - we’ve begun
So it all begins.

Round and round,
To and fro,
Where we go,
All of us know…

Stephanie Tomicich