The fountain folds into itself,
water chasing water
like a thought that refuses
to finish.
In the courtyard,
two friends rehearse a photograph
they will not take.
Their laughter rises,
breaks against the walls,
returns in fragments—
a tide that forgets
where it began.
The paving stones keep
the weight of every step,
but never speak.
Shadows slip across them
like hulls without rigging,
adrift in a harbour
that never opens to sea.
Beyond the walls,
the wind has lost
its compass.
It leans into the gate,
pressing the same syllable
against iron,
again,
again.
And I,
at the margin,
count the widening circles
until the numbers blur,
until the silence
keeps on counting
without me
…
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2025 06:43
- Comment from author about the poem: This version turns on circles that refuse to resolve. Some readers may want a neat ending, but I chose to let it trail; the ellipsis is the circle continuing without me. The blunt images (a harbour that never opens, water chasing itself) are intentional: they anchor the sense of stasis. Rather than closing the loop, the poem hands it over to the reader, who must decide whether the counting is futility, ritual, or release.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
Deeply philosophical as well as poetic this poem focuses on circles. A pint in time to another draws a straight line but from a farther perspective line to line an arc and in fine a circle. The circle of life and existence. I love the images created in this poem the hulls without rigging, the fountain. Where to stop it makes no difference always in the same circle and from there to where. An endless journey without end. Lovely and a fave my friend
So glad for that poetic journey, Soren. Need to rest now for the next shift 🕊️🙏
You are welcome my friend rest well
Thanks again, fighting for a better Now. 🕊️🙏
Now 7 is a beautiful number. Just saying😂
Those circles will always come back onto themselves Rik.
Andy
Yup in circular fashion as well! Thanks , Andy🙏🏻🕊️
A fine write, mate. Love the way it flows. (Pun intended. :-D)
Love the pun! Thanks Tom🙏🏻🕊️
Arqios, this is haunting…the fountain folding into itself feels like thought caught in endless return. Quietly devastating. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Indeed it is, dear Tittu. Thank you so much 🙏🏻🕊️
Beautifully written
Very grateful to you🙏🏻🕊️
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