This is a poem I wrote a couple years ago, and my first attempt at writing a poem in a more song-like form.

Winding
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Winding, winding, God is winding
'round me as He looks at me,
dancing to an unheard music
'neath a moon I cannot see.

'Mid the world that He names waking
I am like a dreaming thing,
drownded in the water's whirling,
bounded by his rotating.

Fiery lines that hold no sameness
but for that they follow Him,
clockwise, counter-clockwise flutter
like a moth with secret aim.

Line and plane are made to bend
by twirling circularity,
human wisdom turns to folly
'gainst eternal verity.

Like a snake in sand delighting,
ever gliding thoughtlessly,
He is all my ceaseless changing,
all my former heresy.

Like a string set loudly shaking
for with Him to harmonize,
vibrant circles move around me,
sound made 'parent to my eyes.

So I watch the endless twirling,
counting up the spiral turns,
vainly hoping I can learn Him
Who by death to birth returns.

Winding, winding, God is winding,
'round me as He looks at me,
dancing to an unheard music
'neath a moon I cannot see.