Spirals of time forging their way ahead through space,
A vision of the future turning free will on its face.
Whispers of darkness nipping at the tail of the past,
Circling around to an expansion of energy then mass.
A wheel within a wheel seems to lie ahead and behind,
Creating an emptiness unavoidable by all but the blind.
As a spec of animate matter within the cosmic stream,
Limitations of my perspective are not what they seem.
For I have freely made a choice and accept I do exist,
Though I will allow the doubt a license to persist.
For only the open questions with which I am crammed,
Allow me to feel truly alive, recursion be damned.