The Spinning Top

the spinning top
has to stop.
the colours,
the patterns,
blur, and
become one;
spinning,
for a moment,
caught in the web
of space and time,
until it comes to rest
in itself;
the spinning top
has to stop
and face its truth,
some day, some time.

Inside Out

into an infinite space -
my thoughts,
my whole being
spiraling
within;
come to rest
in the silent well;
from a space of love,
embracing all -
without, within;
spinning,
unspinning,
constantly,
is the eternal dance
of the self,
in the well,
within.

Note: Try and read the poem backwards, phrase by phrase, and see if it still makes sense! :)