The ruined wheel sadly turns
single minded in its reserve
to cross a land few explore
lest the taint take a life
when existence is enough
to **** a soul without a trial
the evidence is long assumed
against the doom of certitude

too long grown from the spores
cast to ground by ignorance
growing long by circumstance
that nothing else shares this grace
fear compounded with the dread
only found in sacred books
when denial is the norm
of existence beyond the fold

still the circle must roll around
seeking peace from the crowd
even while the trumpets warn
of the gloom that could befall
those very few that are cursed
to sustain lest they expire
this journey of the ruined wheel
with many miles yet to turn.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190710.