The cryptic wheel of fate spins and
I wonder how long I’ve been sympathetic
To this intrigue. Why does it determine
My fortune in its round and round trap?
Changing the consciousness of humanity,
The wheel gets all Fools from here to there.
I’m attached and imagine I’ve created it,

But like a galaxy’s edge, a sense of motion
Happens only when I hang on to its rim.
It dawns on me, finally, there will be no
Break in the throwing of pots, the design
Of webs, time ticking ever forward whether
It’s fun or not, and centrifugal force hell
Is the fear of falling off or being crushed.

This edge is where I’ve discovered
Heroics and wickedness, but somewhere
Along the way I had a revolution that there is
Another experience, a third way, available
When I become an incredible acrobat and
Bravely swing through the spokes
Towards the hub and whirl open a new door.

copyright (c) 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson

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