Of circles we speak; in their patterns, we find
Echoes of time and life itself defined.
They may be imperfect; edges could fray,
Yet beauty always emerges in their curving display.
In whirlwinds of laughter, in tears we shed,
In stories repeated or words left unsaid,
We talk in circles, spinning around,
Evading truths or wanting to be found.
Each day is a round dance, from sunrise to sunset,
Seasons turning, chances we get.
In circles of friends, we spin through existence,
In circles we trace and hearts we hold close.
We try to find the beauty of endings in every embrace.
Through this, we discover the endless cycle,
From a first fleeting glance to a last goodbye.
Cherish these circles, both imperfect and true,
Because in their wholeness and unbroken patterns,
We find the meaning of life as we pursue.
