riddle or poem: who is?

two by two brakes thé seal: thrones
I cannot choose from place,
yellow leaves running in the glas
It must fall as fall is fall

and the seasoned surrendering

and the age of the Wheel grinds
the ground around and around,
a mice the lonely M strands in the grass,
lost its ends, fingers and toes

as from the spider lotus

by his memories who fell into the well,