Catherine’s wheel

It never quit, yet somehow, it halted.
Spluttered, spat and fizzled
then faded out of sight.
A Catherine wheel of fiery
energy that once had spun so fast.
Rotated sadly, slowly, powered
on by momentum of former glory.
Finally just a stationary statue
still pinned upon its pedestal,
a totem pole, a fallen idol
to a following, long forgotten.
Its ashes carried in the breeze
from dust those words had come,
now returned to earth, reclaimed.


5 responses to “Catherine’s wheel

  1. All things have their time, all things have their birth, their colourful life and their death. Something poets can accept but this is a fine summary of it all, Abi, all that much better for its brevity. Thanks for sharing it with us.

  2. I know the feeling well, happens mostly everytime someone lights a passion in me…then it sputters out indignantly! Hopefully we can both find a mojo and say fuck you fizzle quite soon 🙂

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