Dancing in circles

Im all alone in my prison. Just me. And a crank on the wall.
They say that on the other side, there is a mill.
And that every time it turns, wheat becomes flour.
Knowing this has become my only source of comfort.
My source of hope.
My lifeline.

Every day I put in effort. The wheel may be hard to turn,
but I turn it for my good.
For my sanity.


And I put my faith in you.
That when I am free, I can proudly say that the effort was given,
and the rewards are mine, and reap the fruits of my labor.

But what if its all A lie?!
What if I turn the wall and there is really nothing there?

I keep walking in circles with my eyes closed.
Blinded by my faith? Maybe.

But at the end of it all,
will I have produced my wheat?

Or just lost a couple of pounds...

as I walked around in circles.
With my eyes closed.