This is just how it is and how it has always been.

Some wheels are wrought in desperation.
Some are bought with zeal.
Some are gold and some are silver,
Some are brass and some are tin.
Some seem to have no beginning
and appear to have no end.
Still the wheels within the circles spin reeling us all in.
Most begin with you and me
becoming us and we.
Until we turn around to see those left behind,
who now, are them and they but, never ever we.

There are circles within circles.
Wheels within wheels.
Some are hidden in the shadows.
Some stare us in the eye.
We may rail against them
or seek their refuge or even yet, deny
but, within we all have circles of our own.
Families, friends, interests, goals or even causes,
our rings govern us, exercising their own control.
We don't always want to be alone.
Seeking to belong, we are all zero at the bone.

Gears within wheels turning them
just one long continuum.
Until a cog, a burr breaks in
and begins to effect the wheels rhythm.
Then the wobbling wheel reveals
the circles weakness as it grinds and squeals.
Pointing fingers, at their leaders, leaving motives, unconcealed.
Still it is wise for one to question their intent,
values can change from time to time.
Principles can become compromised
and ethics too often elastically inclined.
So, beware the rimless circles, reflect upon the spin.
Lest you lose a thing called integrity
just because they let you in.
It is too easy to veer off course
when the gears get too shiny for our eyes
and your mind is numbing, dumbing, succumbing, hypnotized.
You can cease to be who you think you are,
Your identity lost to the circles power.

By
Lady Lamythica
Linda A. Copp 5/17/14