If your not weird about trains you might not know both rails and wheels with sufficient use will be buffed brilliantly by the work, enough to see yourself in often! and yes that includes a blurred beholding of the world from the wheel in motion. in certain scenarios you can stare at it at high speeds and think how that reflection would eviscerate you if you got close, cut of crimson variegating across its glistening body.
Yes the fatal eroticism of angels abound, the song of suffering ring out along the rim of the flaming ophanim and a child weeps, screams for home; some great and terrible thing to come and sweep you off your feet. What do you wish for at your lowest? Whos name do you call?
I think whoever actually said it, if not Aesop, was misguided in his reckoning of Wind and Dust and War. The idea that it is vain or prideful for this fly to see itself as a part of this armature, as it disembarks a world away to fly and to bite into flesh just as the charioteer's arrows do. I think more often than not our roles are less clearly delineated, the more afield, the more afeard we get.
So for those of us who that harsh reckoning constitutes home, you become the wheel in little ways, in big ways; and with sufficient use you will be buffed brilliantly by the work, enough to see yourself in often! and yes that includes a blurred beholding of the world from the wheel in motion. in certain scenarios you can stare at it at high speeds and think how that reflection would eviscerate you if you got close, cut of crimson variegating across its glistening body.
