The Pinwheel

We live our lives as the pinwheel spin.

He traveled along the street, dusty as it was.
A pinwheel lay at his feet, cheerful as it was.

He returned back home, on that dusty day.
Little more than skin and bone, on that dusty day.

His mind was filled with memories, painful as they were.
His body was filled with scars, hideous as they were.

His heart was filled with sadness, as he passed his widows house.
His soul was left unforgiven, as the coffin passed his widows house.

6 people walked down a road, with a coffin on their shoulders.
100 people followed 6, with great sadness on their shoulders.

A single soul saw this charade, and understood.
Hundreds of people saw the parade, and thought they understood.

One body was lovered into the ground, a soul stayed behind.
106 people left the grave, a soul stayed behind.

He traveled along the street, dusty as it was.
A pinwheel lay at his feet, cheerful as it was.

We lose our lives as the pinwheel spin.