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, we often miss it, standing stiff!

See–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:


No–every time we hearken to the wheel

Of rolling, 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!

And so, attuned with soul’s sincerity,


We 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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