Looking to the Edge (poem)

 Leaves move gently round and round
falling at Earth down to the ground
seven times seven one more time
shake lines and stir to rhyme
right straight through revolving door
equals that state forty-nine

  Where does the future belong
if past and present got it wrong
they’d burnt books and bibes
removing good vibes from song

What to do when Bibe is gone
lost with those moving quark gongs
Webb views of uncertainty
grabbing  night star word tongs

  Mind song news gone to brief fame
big wall of darkness remains
virtual fields blind
spirit wave matter plain

  Bubbles being born again
ordinary light still trends
bringing more births through time
human life times’ best friend.