Thoughts in Poetic Form

the impartial morning,
dark like yesterday,
erects the set around me.
I whirl and gimble
in my furious path,
spinning and spinning
while the walls stand still.

if I could fix this one thing,
would it trigger the sun
to rise, would it set
me free from the walls,
grant me the peace
to imagine a door outside
and the power to stand still.