Progression

Given a point on the circumference

Of life: this point is death, an inference

Of rest where no rest is possible, where

Atomic rush is ceaseless in still air.

Sun in the due course of change

Becomes moon, and possibilities range

Beyond the impossible. Death

Is but a swimmer's holding of the breath.

Life has no end. Man, with greatest and least,

Progresses to some outlandish god or beast,

In what unknown condition of sensory wealth or dearth,

To rule what polished planet unseen to earth.