At The Hands Of My Creator

My counterweight,
anchor me steadfast.
Velocity, unpinning
the axis of my being,
tells me I won’t last.

Crushing gravity,
leans into my earth,
buckling and brittle.
Pliant flesh weakens
‘neath life's subtle girth.

Wobbling free,
you thrust hard, deeper,
distinguish untimely shape
on the spinning plane,
summoning my keeper.

Rising upward,
my spin unfurls, graceful;
a ballerina on ice,
reaching up for you,
my masterful creator.