Moving through the seasons, the seeds of dreams and wonders sown and harvested.
And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game
But I’m not captive anymore – no longer caught on the carousel, for I have magical circles to help set me free. Free to explore art, abundance and adventure.
Who knew leaping off the carousel would incur so many bruises?