Circling, a poem

I don't know which way I'm moving anymore.

Some days the ground falls away

and I think I'm rising...

lighter, clearer, almost through.

Then the same turn comes back

and I'm lower than before,

same view, wrong direction.

Up. Down. I can't tell anymore.

I just know I keep returning

to the same place, different weight.

This is a spiral, I've learned...

not a line, not a hill,

just a shape that keeps finding itself again.

I keep circling him...

closer some turns, further others,

never landing, never leaving.