North is the opposite of south
yet also the same
if you go far enough
you get where you came.
We arrive at winter every year
the primeval frost
the frozen soul within us
and without.
Without us the planet still revolves
around itself
an infinite journey to oblivion.
Our own journey is much shorter.
Whether we face
nuclear winter
or climate change summer
how capable we humans are at finding
ways to destroy ourselves.
Fire and ice.
Summer and winter
swallowing each other.
Yin is yang is yang is yin.
Ping is pong is kong is king.
There are no opposites
Just a continuous line
North
to a blurring white
a frigid nothingness.
Ethan Goffman accidentally became a poet by tagging along with his wife, the far more talented, harder working, and prettier Marianne Szlyk, to poetry workshops. He is still not sure how, but somehow his poems have appeared in BlazeVox, Mad Swirl, Madness Muse, Ramingo’s Porch, and Setu.
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