How far is it?
How far is it now?
The gigantic gorilla interiors
Of the wheels move, they appal me -
What do wheels eat, these wheels
Fixed to their arcs like gods,
The silver leash of the will -
Inexorable. And their pride!
All the gods know is destinations.
-- from "Getting There," by Sylvia Plath
At the time, I really didn't even understand it, I felt it. The rhythm and the words got under the surface of me and made things move. I am glad I developed the habit of writing things down that have that effect; I begin to get it now, fixed to the arcs of wheels, knowing there are destinations I would not have chosen for myself, but for which I am bound.
Incidentally, I think if I can ever use the word "inexorable" in a poem successfully, I will have arrived at one destination, at least.