circles

Every day my pen touches the page
Hoping that something beautiful, lovely, magical, profound
Will come out.
Consistency is my rule, yet for what?
What do all these words mean?
Why am I so insistent upon this exercise of pulling things out of my head and out of my heart…
Of taking the indiscernible and making something sensical out of it?
It’s like a puzzle-
But most times some pieces are missing-
So I piece it together, choosing according to my audience.
Surely there are things that I wouldn’t share with others-
And on the other hand, there are things that I intend for others.
Nonetheless,
It doesn’t matter.
Circles.
It’s all about circles.
My mind goes in them and so does my pen.
Circles.
Mysteries and incompletes are part of the process…
But then in that moment of turmoil, frustration and secret elation,
It is finished.
Circles.
In the end there is something to be said for the finished,
Complete, uninterruptible circle-
With my very name, essence and spirit in the center of it.
Perfectly imperfect circle.