A spinning top

It lies motionless

Feeling nothing

Doing nothing



It is spun

Fast and regular

Its movements are dizzying

Such strength

Such stamina

Moments pass

and its revolutions slow

It no longer moves far across the table

focussing all its energy on staying upright,

on keeping it together

It spins slower still

Winding down

the top wobbles.

First it lurches to the left

then the right

And with a clunk

wood meets the spinning top's shiny surface

In desperation it attempts to regain its momentum

But the battle against gravity is lost.

There is nothing to be done.

Just give in.