Twisting and turning on this roll of a sphere I rotated upon.
Cool as iron after the sparks were lit and somehow the heat goes on.
Succulent to the bones roasted upon the metal spick,
Sticky are the juicy thoughts after my mind rolls over into it.
A cog in a buolds the machine, a wheel without its spokes and so it speaks,
A corkscrew for the bullet and a little food for the vicious and meek.
Wind created motion and tempers the weathers notions,
Heating and cooling oceans create the torrents within its currents.
3:20 PM, July 8th, 2023, Saturday