Rusty prayer wheels
on a dusty street.
They squeak & they squeal,
& no circuit completes,
but still hands reach out for each one
'cause who has faith in the clean wheel spun?
Rusty Prayer Wheels [Lyric Poem]
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each wheel,
on the temple circuit,
spins at its own rate

the prayer wheels
have all gone still, but for
the last squeaking one