It turns.

Its spokes sprouting out from the middle, its heart-substance, it’s core.

It turns.

Its ever-grinding motion the pure physicality of my life.

It turns.

But why? Why does it turn, never ceasing, never resting? Why must the gears of my brain always reach, always search?

What am I looking for?

As it turns, it expands, and contracts, and extends…to whatever state my mind may be in.

And it turns, as it changes. Oh, it TURNS !

My imagination flies, and my curiosity turns – never ceasing, never resting.

Toward some nameless goal.

And I wonder what I’m searching for.

I laugh.

I’m searching for an end! Any end, any place to lay my head!

And it is a laugh to end all others…for it never shall stop turning. For it is a circle, the never-ending, never beginning, simply existing form.

No one questions a circle. But it is my nature to question.

I must turn.