Exiting the threshold, covered in fresh autumn air.
The Feeling of a journey paused but not ended. Pulled away from the greener pastures and told it was just a lie.
Struggling to stay still under a moving surface, too fast to catch every shape, the image of a spinning wheel turning over inside the mind.
To stop it completely would be a wonder, an impossible thing made possible.
Will it be forced reality or the way station among the lost until time becomes relevant again?
Only time knows the truth.