Life is a carousel on wheels,
rolling in ruts worn deep
down a wagon-road to hell
- which remains unpaved,
despite all the good intentions
we sell,
we just never get 'round
to the infrastructure. We wheel
as we roll, while we gaily carouse,
switching steeds and mounts, taking
turns in the chariot-carts, clinching
furiously. Reaching out
by ones
and by twos, we lean daring to grasp
with clutched hands
at the beautiful rings of gold
that were hung upon limbs of scaffolds
or trees, whizzing by as we pass
- that some of us catch! And we whoop
with joy, and we beg, and we please,
And we fall out, between us
annoyed or destroyed, to the floor
of the ride wheeling on and through. It's never
so easy to get to your feet
as it was to climb on,
back before you knew.
Come now, saddle up. You mustn't
show fear. Climb back on the dog
or the unicorn, trying to find
Someone else's eye, to give chase
to a catch, and surrender ourselves
to the way we were born.
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