根與石頭

In the wheel is the round shape.

The road is calling only that it is open; and you flow naturally into it, closing something behind you as you fall from the foreground.
You fall from a door. You fall down a road.
You can get nothing, can hold nothing; your finger bones fall away like cigarette butts.

But, in the wheel forever, see it, the shape moving through its own shape like a stillness.

… Falling through your whole life, you are breaking apart…
But in the round shape of the wheel is the idea which is the bone upon which the flesh of the wheel is fixed…

-- Movements/ Russell Edson