When does the world stop
stopping for you?
Have all their sentiments'
sentient ways stopped dead
or are they only sleeping?
In a time saturated in questions,
how can you ask-
As if our wobbling axis
may be gripped, twisted,
then told to stay
that way. The colossal wheel
and cog will not fit inside
your head, but it's revolutions
can be felt only once a year.
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