the circle tips and we slip,
beads of the same thread
colliding sideways;
on the edge but touching now
we spin over it,
dream of being
shiny stones in a pond
or feathers cast adrift in rain,
a scattered whirl in flight
everywhere
making circles of our own,
spinning wilder dreams
to find us;
time’s compulsion nullified
forget me now 
This brought a smile to my face & tears to my eyes in equal measure. It moved me in a way I can’t quite understand. I think would like very much to live inside of this circle.
ohhh Lunatique … your response really touched me … yes, let’s step inside a self-made magic circle rather than be shuffled round, not quite in – or even out – of anywhere but the given track … *sigh
Beautifully said. I like this notion of all of us adrift, and through destiny’s wind, bumping up against one another…once, twice, maybe we stick for good. But it’s so peaceful beyond compulsion.
i was messing with the idea of stones making water move around them, being in control – or feathers, controlled by wind, yes, but maybe choosing how they roll with it … who paints the circle? kind of thing
of course in truth it’s a balance of energies and forces,
relationships of any kind or matter are …
but mostly i was playing with a regular rhythm/stress pattern … 4 3 2
anyhow, i’m glad you enjoyed this whimsical abstraction Annie!