Of not much acclaim

Motion

I look back and see what was there,
Probably what was not.
What has become and what is becoming
Into what is being ventured and what is being left behind
Moving ahead sometimes seems like moving behind
Sideways seems the way to go
A vague horizontal and not much of a vertical
Oblique, skewed
Distances become immaterial
Direction seems indifferent
No vectors for me
Scaled may be, scarred and bruised too
Fuck it, my life has a come a full circle
What was ahead is what is behind
What is ahead has passed me by