Wheels of Reflection

Not sure whether to call it distraction, Or label it a lesson in life without a wife. Every time someone walks by, you glance, Eyes, ever curious, seem to search endlessly for something new. Surprised by my own nature, it gets harder each day To control instincts that leap from nothing to everything in a split second. It makes many bend, as if an approaching end looms near. The cycle of beginnings and endings is nothing new, Yet even with understanding, the wheel spins on and on, Capturing every moment, every grain of detail, Even when a tiny pebble trips your step and causes a sprain. Unwinding thoughts get tangled, hard to clear, Forming clots of confusion that clog the mind. In the end, not all potholes can be filled. Be it the vast blue skies or the fire with which we begin, They fade, requiring effort to pull back or start over. But it’s never too late to start, never too late to keep going. It all depends on the path you choose to follow.