Down, down the Ferris Wheel

I am going down on the Ferris wheel;

Everything around me stands still;

The wind sweeps across my face,

Unsettles my dress, my visage,

Everything else stands still.

I go low, low,

Doing the rounds, a musical twirl,

Faces pass, visions blur,

The world is a colorful maze,

As I sit perched, going down on the Ferris Wheel.

There someone rushes past,

A multi-hued zigzag, amidst the façade.

As I sit still, the world moves in a tumble,

Spinning out of control,

While I sit and assemble.

I am going down on the Ferris Wheel.

It is a prolonged journey;

From top to bottom; of the arc,

I make it in periodic motions,

Never past, the downward spiral of the Ferris Wheel.

The peripheral vision plays tricks,

I see the world in colorful haze,

An alluring lion’s lair,

Or a gypsy’s forgotten tune, playing out to the meadows.

A mask here, a face there,

It gets hard to decipher, truth from dare,

While I am going down on the Ferris Wheel.

The cold air stings,

Ground seems afar,

While I am suspended,

Hit the bottom below,

Or fly away,

The wings and the clips are both in my bag.

The Ferris wheel goes round and round

It replaces all others sounds,

I am the sole occupant,

Besides me none,

To hold me up,

Or push me down.

Eyes, hardly see past the daze,

Nose leaves behind its senses to the ground,

Ears, they strain to hear,

The mortal sound, while the giant Ferris wheels roars past the ground,

And I, its sole occupant, sit and wait my turn to get off.