shouts blur, and colors echo,

hazy dust drifts in the summer heat,

bright hues flash in the fading sun,

whirling around,

again,

again,

and again.

heavy odors weigh down

with oppressive heat and moisture,

pressing the air away from seeking lungs.

it's time.

climbing on, pushing, shoving

the best horse,

glinting in all it's glory,

bronze hooves,

silver mane,

pulling up to the well-worn saddle,

sitting tall, like a knight,

ready to ride into the sunset,

brave, invincible.

music bursts,

the tune jumping, lively

laughter bubbling up and exploding out

moving, faster, faster!

everything gone,

all that's left is the pole,

the belt,

the horse,

and you.

now, you're flying,

whipping around,

hearing, but deaf,

seeing, but blind.

unconscious to the world.

all the cries dulled,

all the colors muffled.

but, wait!

turning around,

trying,

trying,

to glimpse a solid object

to hear one definite note.

but, no

never-ending, spinning, whirling.

How? How to stop?

straining, peering

feet out of the straps,

still,

still to far to fall,

to reach.

a branch!

out over the fence

just long enough to grab

fingers stretch,

leaning,

leaning,

Yes!

triumph

for a millisecond.

carried away now,

the branch scratches

leaves angry marks,

burning red.

why?

please, why must holding on hurt so?

and so you sit,

waiting,

for eternity,

or so it seems.

it won't stop moving,

never.

taking you away,

constantly.

And you look,

into the blur.

maybe it's safer,

calmer,

more peaceful there.

maybe you could hold on

to objects,

to people,

out there.

maybe,

maybe.

and then the choice is done.

you're tired of sitting here

of always moving,

nothing lasts forever.

Soar off into air.

freedom,

and then solid earth,

sturdy,

still,

peaceful.

Turn back,

look at the place you were at.

shouts blur, and colors echo once again,

even if you wanted to,

there's no going back.

You're off now,

away from excitement,

desperation,

feeling too much,

seeing too little.

away from the movement,

the exhilaration,

the whirlwind.

So you watch,

an observer.

watch as the carousel of life spins,

spins,

and never stops.

Video in the media bar is a song I found after I published this poem that's similar to this writing. I DO NOT own either the song or the video.