A Round

A poem I'm still working on:

I ingest an ancient tablet

one I cannot read

it enters through my mouth

then flows with liquid ease.

At first it fills my throat

then it travels past my knees

It clouds up in my neck

sending billows through my head.
Just before I burst

it surges to my feet.
Forcing up,

Drawing down.
Sucking in,

pressing out.

It morphs in the middle

where circular ripples

send out waves eternal

and eternity answers back

merging me with every thing

every where.
A Round
suspended.
I am found.