119 x 85 cm
Ink on Paper
Spin, small cog,
spin ever so swiftly,
govern the tides,
clearly and brightly.
The peacock wears the wheel of fate,
determines people’s narrow and straight.
Who will stay,
who will go,
and which wheels will stop their flow?
Who can know, but those that watch over the cog’s dance,
those, that laugh about their roundel of Now, Tomorrow, Yesterday and Chance.
May they have mercy on me,
to guide me home in blessed safety.
© tamara kolb