In this book of poetry...

An astronaut floats in the cosmos, forever spinning in circles.

Forever across eternity, poetry in the bones burning hot and white, breathing it in and out till everything is ashes and reborn through the white flashes of new universes.

Forever chanting "Time is an illusion, and there's magic in the loom that spins unseen".

A child runs home at dusk and asks a dervish about their mother.

At sunset, it rains and lovers dream of the day when they'll outlast the apocalypse.

A cat and a dog fall in love, in a chase across the world.

We forever spin in circles; lives fettered to the ruts of entropy and order. We are forever drawn to and dying in love, dreams scattered across lifetimes. We dance forever across time. Forever in a circle.

Long live the hand that spins the wheel.

Long live the hand that holds the thread.

Long live love, and poems of it.