The Spoke(n) Wheel

Silent harmony radiates.

The well built wheel spins true.

Each spoke tuned; laced; well aligned;

From flange to hoop; all a silvery hue.

The true wheel: beautifully and wonderfully designed.

Each spoke laced and braced;

Keeps wheel and rider in shape.

A fact we cannot escape.

Let’s ride and embrace this grace.

Mounted; skewered to alloy chariot,

True built wheels will liberate;

Hallowed riders testify and celebrate.

The well built wheel spins true.

Ascends, descends, and transcends.

With daily use and elemental abuse,

Spokes are bent, broken, misaligned;

The wheel becomes maligned;

Just a subtle change in design.

But audible disharmony radiates.

Does this strike a chord?

A damaged spoke, contaminates fellow spokes.

If one spoke suffers, all spokes suffer.

Twelve trinities in discord.

Eventually wheel failure; disgrace.

Damaged: all parts(n) parcel. 

Alas poor Judas Iscariot,

Broken spokes and wheels askew,

Lost his line; fell headlong

and burst asunder.

Day in day out,

Attention and maintenance are due;

To spoke(n) rim and Him.

A broken wheel can be mended;

Restored to spin like true nobility.

King of Kings, a true remedy for disunity.

Beloved Chi-Rho, keeps us whole.

Through his grace, we keep the pace.