The Spinning Wheel

There exists a wheel,
Spinning in the expanse of space.
Many people ride this wheel,
Some dangerously near the edge.
All are trying to get to the center,
To find what makes the wheel spin.
As the wheel spins faster,
The people begin to lose ground.
The edge grows closer every day,
Threatening to throw them to oblivion.
There were things to hold on to,
To keep ones legs steady.
Some of them were weak,
Made of nothing but chaff.
The others were strong,
Made with the strongest of wood.
The ones of chaff were covered with gold,
They appealed to the eyes of the falling.
The ones of wood were covered with nails,
And it hurt to hold on.
But those that did traveled forward,
Ever closer to the center of the wheel.
The wheel traveled faster the closer they got,
Hope is what pulled them along.
They reached the center and saw the truth,
The reason the wheel spins.
Cries from the outside then assaulted their ears,
As it was not until they saw the truth that they heard.
People began coming down from the center,
To aid those about to fall.
The chaff was falling apart,
Pulled into darkness by the spinning wheel.
The center traveled with us,
We had no danger of a fall.
We approached the chaff,
And it was blown away by the wind.
There was nothing more for them to hold,
And they clawed at the wheel.
I reached out my hand to her,
She reached out her hand to his.
The sword was there as well,
Slid into the hole in my hand.
I formed my fist to a heart,
And rested it on hers.
She grabbed hold and was saved,
Then she reached another.
A chain of life,
Spun from the center.
A chain of love,
That shattered their bonds.