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We are spokes in the wheel of society,
The ever-turning wheel of society One goes out, one comes in, the wheel continues quietly The spokes travel in a circle that turns into a blur, A rushing blur whose strength is mighty The revolutions are the days, and questions aren’t raised In the ever-turning wheel of society Rusty spokes are no use, and are soon torn loose For their obvious lack of piety Your role is your roll, you’re a matching pole In the ever-turning wheel of society
© Copyright 2009 Will Stumbel (UN: stumbel at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Will Stumbel has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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