Eternal Recurrence Poem by DM W

Sometimes I feel I've been here before,
As detached as an angel from on high.
Love's carousel seems so familiar.
The seasons come in glory then they go.
History repeats itself in colour.
Symbols of the prophets regurgitate:
Spat out into facile, glossy slogans.
Crude desires breed & thrive like maggots.
All salient forms are mere vanity.
There is nothing novel under the sun.
All is meaningless like chasing the wind.
The centre of existence is missing.
Sport & leisure themes are but surrogates.
Festivals mark the time between birth & death.
Sometimes I feel I've been here before,
As detached as an angel from on high.