Three Big Zeroes for All

 

At this zero hour I stand in the dark,

trying to see the newcomer,

Nobody is there, alas!

Not even the refracted skylight.

 

Bundled out round in a circle,

I thus fumble around words,

Meaning whose has fatality—

Of circling around; ending nowhere.

 

Three big zeroes of the new,

which hover over, gobble up

the sleepy environment  around me,

Wonder while I about the ‘zeroness’.

 

Three zeroes take me round—

The zero for myself,

A bigger one for the country,

Still larger one for the world whole.

 

Will I break this vicious circle

of rounding on the path same;

Burning out too much energy,

Arriving then at nothing?

 

Will this country having

so many self-centred circles,

Arrive at something new,

rather than the same big zero?

 

And what about this world?

Will it unmatch its physical shape?

The great big circle,

Binds which our orbiting passions.