This day’s arrayed in circularity:
No harshness breaks the sheerness of it all,
The ecstasy of curves; the verity
That all is one, and all to one returns.
Corners soften; show new clarity;
Yes, what grace, this circularity—
Yet o, how much we miss it, standing stiff!
Still, when we ease, we’ll catch it: charity
In simple things—a long, absolving rain,
Or eyes that gaze afresh at a beloved
And smile. Such succor's not a rarity:
For every time we hearken to the wheel
Of ceaseless cosmic regularity,
The joyous wholes of everything unreel;
An effortless, divine dexterity
Of instinct flows when senses come ungloved.
Our mental “fingers” feel the swerving grain
Of life, and trump its angularity.
Such aureoles abound beneath earth’s glyph!
Soon, attuned with soul’s sincerity,
We'll note the hoax in squares’ severity
And open orbs.  Apace, the psyche learns
To see all forms commixed, in parity…
Encompassing and compassed by the all,
This day’s arrayed in circularity!

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