A Thought Upon The World

At some point in time,
upon some iceberg-point;
a thought of mine might stray
while digesting a line,
while adjusting to the shunt
of life;
of turning night and day.
When all the world contorts
in every moment's birth,
and all smile gleams
clarion report of every moments mirth,
as every beings claim
configures in the void -
released like seed
into the wheeling real,
carousel of odd;
into spiral of cosmic need:
that involuntary zeal.

That thought upon the world
tumbles in its way
out over ice vasts;
sloughs;
skids,
flies;
submerges
with every drag of fate,
dirge of soul,
with every flight of fancy;
every sensate flow.