The Wheel

Photo by Navneet Shanu on

Sanskrit laden, gold gilt shimmering

From the central hub of ignorance

Along its spokes you’ve carved your word

Along its spokes you’ve carved your commitments

You keep them

You keep them


In the soft morning sun

You point, showing

The pulsing core of your fire

You lift the watch

Handcrafted and rippling with reds and oranges

You tell me its time

You tell me its time


I’m listening

It’s taken us down a long road to get here

I’m listening

To what you’ve chosen most dear

You tell me you will take me

Take me somewhere I have to lean into

A guarded realm

I can’t quite understand


But I must choose

And now, you’re disappearing

The real dawn, commanding

Rays overtake us

You become slowly unclear

Your Martian edges hazy

The lilting passion of your vibration

Wavering, vanished

And I’m left

With only astral echoes

The wheel



Asking me

Where I want

To become


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