The Merry-Go-Round

As a child, it seemed my native land at the playground.
     Some individualists did prefer the slides and swings
          But the roundabout was a rotating community
     With sheet metal seating and merriment for all.
Lay claim to a handlebar, contribute to the collective energy
     Then watch the world glide by in its tranquility.

But the joyful community was ultimately fragile.

Others would invariably hatch plans and commence
     Harnessing the centrifugal force for dizzying designs.
         The rowdiest group, however diminutive
     Could subvert the machine to its will with relative ease.
Hunkering down and hanging on seemed the only remedy
     To avoid being tossed as the wheel spun ever more chaotically.

All the while ruing the loss of both liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

I recall hoping that after the whirling circle slowed
     After their fury was spent and the madmen moved on
         Perhaps there would be peace again.
     Yet while the world was frenetically racing round and round
To stay in my community, stalwart and kind
     Seemed the best course of action to my giddy mind.

             Perhaps there will be peace again.