A constant round of circles;
Leading nowhere, never ending -
Looking always for the way;
Evidently lost, not pretending.
A cycle of will non-existent;
The other cycles continue to spin -
Revolving always, forever behind;
There is never any way to win.
Perfectly in sync at different paces;
Never any closer or farther away -
Missing the exit on every round;
It wasn't meant to be this way.
A dance of circumstance or penance?
Born of only the closed mind -
The heart waits for its release;
The music box knows only its wind.
1 comment:
It is so good to read your poetry again. I love it!
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