Where left is risen and right descends, identities cease and wholeness is,

with man as measure he soon will glean, there is no boundary, no corporeal screen.

incessant descent eventually climbing, the unseen contrivance with faculties blinding.

spinning inwards, all form arranged, erodes with timing yet remains unchanged.

the winding line, the dust of time,

a sun rises in my forehead.

Well done, a lot said in a few words. That is hard to do in my opinion. Do you have any more on site?