the wheel of time

Everyday we hold on to a rope
braided by nameless
bare-footed, bare-chested
underage, underfed, con artists
who stood naked in the rain
under a blinding golden light
looking at the galloping horses. 
But then our mirror cracks
and with our impotent nakedness
we try to pull the breaks but
while we accessorize
the galloping horses disappear
and trapped we remain
in the Wheel of Time
that same golden light 
blinding us - all over again.

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© Jeta B Photography