In a circle of friends,
yet many are strangers,
known to me by a handful,
a handful of stars in the sky.
Yet so close,
close to share as one,
was was decreed to be broken.

Broken is a circle,
when one is removed.
A circle shared is never lost,
for a circle has no end.
Yet even infinity will be reached,
by those of eternity.

So share those who break
the misery of being one,
not part of all.
And so they pull,
and so they clamour,
to not be all, already
shattered to nothing.

So share those who hold,
the creativity and joy of such.
No need to be one,
when even seperated,
making the circle into nothing,
for even when alone,
those of the circle
always have the pleasure of such,
no need for the misery of one.

Opposite sides of the same coin,
forever tossed in air.
After an eternity,
it'll land on it's side,
for no side can ever win.

Closed, open,
it matters not,
for they are the ones
to always be all.

Always open, never with closed arms,
never held too long,
that of which they must throw away.
For them, they who break,
it is always one.

For us, those who are the circle,
we shall always be.

::December 1, 2002 02:17 PM

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