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THE WHEEL

New parts again. . . . I cannot see. . . . I cannot see. . . .
"Still He whirls His wheel; but His hair is graying,His voice cracks and wheezes like mine, His wits nod. . . .He and His wheel will some day cease,And other wheels will shine through the spinning blackness. . . .And some day it will stop,And there will be no more motion, no more light,No more darkness . . . nothing. . . . "
His voice was still, his eyelids narrowed;He gazed out of the window.

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