Moving in Place

Incessant, intermeshing gears in play,
The fire burns within to stymie fate,
Pretense of moving on, yet ever stay.

Out-of-tune caliope betrays,
Implying that a free life lies in wait,
Incessant, intermeshing gears in play.

Though hues are bright, beneath there lurks the gray
of oil-clogged sprockets; grind, incriminate,
Pretense of moving on, yet ever stay.

The merriest-go-round will soon betray,
And blinded trust leads back to starting gate,
Incessant, intermeshing gears in play.

The carousel spins round, as breezes sway
my hair, ill wind illusions disinflate,
Pretense of moving on, yet ever stay.

I should have known, to clear foresee this day,
Painted stallions rise up, then abate,
Incessant, intermeshing gears in play,
Pretense of moving on, yet ever stay.

🎠🎠🎠🎠🎠

Photo Friday: Moving

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