History’s Wheels

Samsara is a skid mark
A few miles back
As each of us strikes the windshield
A firm final splat

More than a road trip
Our journey's a drive
From cradles and gurgles
To mostly alive

Careening along 
The temptation's a must
Believing the wheel
Won't kick up much dust

Connected though circumstance
Seems to the car
It's going regardless
Of me or the stars

Greatness and purpose
Are games full of nerve
As none of these charms
Can shift the street's curve

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