You can spin, wheel and twist, but this thing can turn without moving. What is it?
It is in the rock, but not in the stone; It is in the marrow, but not in the bone; It is in the bolster, but not in the bed; It is not in the living, nor yet in the dead.
The letter r
Searing 'cross the pitch-black skies, I scream in celebration, Yet moments later, my outburst through, I am naught but imagination.