The Portal of an Oval Window

I sit and stare beyond what's there, besides "The oval window, a portal to another dimension". It drags the moon's eclipse off the sun's circle to show an ellipse with twin foci, in two dimensions not one. The tension woven into its shape shrouds a duality, a flip-flop state, steeped in, and reeking with ambivalence. An oval coracle holding on, rocking in choppy seas. Therein lies a worm hole, where logic warps to both sides, here and now, together, where light bends, twists refracts to an oval rainbow, where time stands still, then back-tracks to before, to way, way back when, and on to now and then. An oval belies uncertainty, spiraling like sand, down in an hour-glass down the plug-hole, down into the sink below, collected in an oval coracle, an egg yet to hatch.