Waters deep and swirling round
Banging on the hardest ground
Reaping what the old sage sows
Wanting what the cold wind blows
Puttering, sputtering
Wheelhouse round
Listen to the crackle-y sound
Grinding,
Crush
All this to mush
And yet it is all tall and lush.

Triangulate mind
Spiraling down, to unwind
Listening is such a bore
Willingness and more to pour
Round & round the wheel must pound,
Reverberate along the ground
Vibrations ring among the mines
Whistling within the pines.

Manifest, this truly Be?
Manifest, this must be Me.