This living is the
Following of a
Ribboning line becoming
Straight and true
Before hardening
Into fixity
And  thoroughness,
Its prime.

It solidifies in my
Takes  on form and
Light and hue,
A  living thing
It climbs
Discerns itself through

The  fog of life,
Finding  four firm
Pivots to latch on
To,  at first
It is rigid, its
Rigidity is square
Bare lines and hard
But  once used
The  corners part and
Merge,  angles submerge
With  experience
Until the turn is
Taken  smooth  and
The  shape of a curve
Protrudes, its
Softness abounds
And  as it finds
Itself thus,
Colour  seeping up
Strengthening  and pure,

It is oval,
Reclining but appearing
Clearly for the first

Profound, definite,
Sure of itself and
Its line it forms
A circle,
Binds itself together
Into one serene form
Intact and strong
Revolving like a

And  I am nearly
There -
These four corners cut
And  turn together
In my head,  and their
Form  is nearly firm -
I am binding them,
Want  to feel the circle
Close perfect and serene
And  live like that: in
Charge,  secure of my wood:
My  right grain
Engrained there for good.
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