Rotation is all there is.

It is the dizzying heart of thunderstorms,

Hurricanes, and their children the tornadoes.

Antimatter spins in the opposite direction of matter,

The neutrino one way, and anti-neutrino

The other.  Two contrary rotations confronting

One another, even randomly, generates annihilation.

The electron without a nucleus

To center its existence becomes but

A beta wave, its rotation expressed

As oscillation: a finer language

But chillingly bereft of gravity.

The sun spins, the earth spins,

The seasons spin.  Within me

All constituent particles spin and even in their

Drudgery within themselves rotate.  I am still.

I rotate, I spin, I orbit only

Through my connection to other things,

My placement, my membership in the collective.

I understand the cold, sensuous trap of rotation.

Birth, growth, maturity, decline, death.

But that is not me.