Aimlessly Aimless (a poem of a wandering nature)

Ew... well, I suppose what's been done is irrevocable now... you have yourself to blame. Keep in mind, I had just finished
listening to "The Windmills of Your Mind", so it may be a little... disjointed.

Aimlessly Aimless (a poem of a wandering nature)

Like the road that stretched before you,
and the road that stretched behind.
The liimist being dictates
of your will and of your mind.

Like a winding, spiral staircase,
flowing gently to the ground.
Like the circle of a question
to the answer you have found.

Bright futures seen before you,
dark futures seen as well.
Some days to see the face of heaven,
some days the face of hell.

It's the turning of the clock's hands,
it's the beads that slip the glass.
It's the moment that you'd die for,
but know will sooner pass.

It's the fragment of the mirror,
that will not show your face.
It's wandering down your hallways,
as if they were a maze.

It's the eye that stares above you,
it's the eyes that stare below.
It's when you have an answer,
to a question you don't know.

It's the spinning of a child's top,
the spinning of your mind.
It's the sudden realization
that your whole life you've been blind.

It's the wandering aimless nature,
of this poems groping verse.
It's the question that we all must ask,
the circles growing curse.

It's the purpose that's not known to you,
but not unknown as well.
It's the eyes that look at heaven,
and see the place of hell.

It's a circle in a circle,
a spiral in a square.
It's the misty winter morning
it's the breezy autumn air.

It's the tired, rambling wanderings
of a pen within my hands
it's the music found in life itself,
and music found on stands.

It's the feeling that you've seen yourself,
in someone that you've met.
It's the ending of this rambling verse,
that hasn't started yet.

Don't even bother asking what the hell that was, I don't know either.

The Turtle Moves