Wheel Poem by Chan Mongol

WHEEL
By: Chan Mongol



I am not a whimsical man and never said, long live the king;

I write rhymed poems for me from the Summer to the Spring.

In the cyclic order, things are back to back to the Babylon;

The wheel does Non-stop rotation, one after another season.

But the wheel doesn't stop in the destination in Babylon;

With own software and or apps the wheel moves on and on.

It completes the round to make four seasons in the weather.

The completion of rotation of the wheel is named as the year.

New Year is good for administrative records and chronology;

But each year makes me older and doesn't not highlight me!

I am not a matter in the historical chronology if I live or die;

My life and death are not the story to read, laugh and to cry!

New Year Comes in the midnight to splash my face and body;

I find me older and more wrinkles in the morning in me!

Day and night, hot and cold, life and death are in the wheel;

Wheel transports us to be rich or poor, healthy or ill, civil or evil.