The black dot trembled. The dot of life. 
 History I could see in your eyes, dust raining on my arms, 
 those arms of fire now lost in time rusty wings are to become.  

 The black dot quivered. The dot of death. 
 The same old wind carrying us both into the whirl of seeking, 
 spiraling cries held in the space of opposite magnetic forces. 

 The black dot shuddered. The dot of love.
 Convoluted drive for the eternal pool a whirl of passion now ignites. 
 A new beginning of the end. The same love story of our kind.  

©Daniela Marin,2019