Trapped under the ice
No one can hear you scream.
The sound you made, held
as if between two sheets of glass.
Melt waters carry it far away
To be heard as a distant echo
From a lost time.
A repeating pattern of cosmic design
Nothing is lost, nothing goes to waste
All held within the ticking arms of a clock.
We return, newly made to walk in the
same footsteps we made long ago.
Nothing escapes Earth’s gravity
It merely changes…