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The Incantation of Geometric Symmetry
I belong in rings
circles of my whispering
each chant at tangent—
across the diagonals
charting my awakening
I use rhythm to draw
compass lines on virgin ground
breathing a mantra
to recite faithful sketches
that arc over the dome shroud
triangles of doubt
erupt within the echo
edges turned inward
yet this sharpness finds its place
when confined in the circle
what would shapes become
without their opposing sides
a square needs four sides
a soup bubble shape trembles—
balance born in symmetry
in the polygon
of opinions gathered there
angles speak at once
each playing a vital part
swayed by the container's form
within the circle
infinite as mandala
voices radiate
from faith as a central star
blazing signals of pure light
Copyright ©
John Anderson
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