The Way They Herd Poem by Scott J. Shepard

To roam the carousel was a painted face that
strung itself up and then what heavy weight
it took turns between themselves

Acceptance to create; we windmill the temptation
to turn ourselves over to stone
as if below we object ourselves to be marble
As if our stance passes the air
they follow the still dance of the ground below
its last wind potent among a hands sigh to follow

Laid loose; our weathered days molded
from the right and temptation of forgetfulness
the days sidetracked by the will
of the clays consecration toward some other insight