VII

Round and round turns the great wheel of days, like the wheel of samsara that binds souls. Sunrise to sunrise, life loops and replays.

Each morning a birth, each night a death tolls; we live many lifetimes in miniature, circling through joys and tribulations whole.

Unconscious, one drifts in this curvature, repeating old patterns like a spinning top- each day the same story in caricature.

How many dawns have seen you rise and drop into the same desires, the same fears? How many sunsets found you at a stop,

no wiser than at daybreak, soaked in tears? The wheel can be prison if one stays blind, chasing one’s tail through months, through years.

Samsara’s cycle is cruelly designed to lull with familiarity’s song- the comfort of routine to ease the mind.

One could toil forever in that futile grind- like Sisyphus rolling his stone up the hill, only to watch it roll back down unkind.

Such is life without change: labor and spill, no summit reached, no fresh horizon won. The spirit stagnates, repeating its drill.

But growth cannot thrive in that loop for long; stagnation sets in when change is deferred. To evolve, you must break the sing-along.

By dying each day, you throw off the fetters that chain you to yesterday’s endless repeat. You step off the wheel’s lazy vector

and rejoin it with purpose, not deceit. No longer a captive of habit’s return, you ride time’s wheel like a steed on swift feet.

Picture the wheel as a fire that burns- if you ride its rim unaware, you char; but dive through its center, new life you earn.

In conscious death and rebirth, you go far beyond mere circles: you shape a spiral. Each rotation uplifts your guiding star.

Thus each life-day becomes a trial, yet also an ascent, rung by rung. The cycle now serves as self’s revival.

What once was endless, aimless and wrung with déjà vu of unbroken chain, now is a rhythm by which growth is sung.

So embrace the turning, but with refrain- die to the past as the future is born. This is the path to break free from pain.

No day is wasted that meets night’s scorn with courage to let that day’s self expire. Through cycles of time, your spirit is shorn

of dross, polished bright by repetition’s fire. The wheel of days becomes your ally, no longer a trap, but a trainer to aspire.

In mastering the loop, you testify: eternal return can renew, not deny.