John Donne's Compass

Moments, minutes, hours and days
Gliding unfathomably away...
Looking so deeply with unseeing eyes
Into the acute distance...
Thinking of the 'compass and gold to airy thinness beat'
Intense bursts of momentary loneliness
Humming amidst the daily conundrum-
Fills this void with a deafening silence.
The temporary void feels like a chasm.
John Donne's lines ring in the distant bell
Rest assured compass.
Hold on tight hinge.
'The leg that travels far, makes a full circle
And returns to the base'.