When Time Forms A Circle

When Time Forms A Circle

A ring of fire hangs in the waking sky,

perfect and unbroken above the sand.

The sun rests gently on ancient stone,

as if placed there by a careful hand.

The pyramids stand without a voice,

older than language, older than doubt.

They have watched the world learn how to breathe,

and watched whole eras burn themselves out.

Light bends itself into something holy,

a halo drawn where seconds feel small.

Time pauses long enough to remember,

that it is not in charge after all.

Shadows stretch like whispered prayers,

across a land that knows no fear.

History listens, perfectly still,

as the present moment appears.

We stand unseen at the edge of it all,

fragile hearts beneath endless sky.

Trying to measure our brief existence,

against stones that refuse to die.

The circle fades but the knowing stays,

etched deeper than reason can go.

Some sights rearrange the soul forever,

and this is one of those.