“Circle of One Growing Apart” — Image by kenne
Circle of One
Look at us,
we look alike —
similar lines,
curves,
colors,
so much in
common.
We came together
seeking
to be one,
a symmetry of
differences
reflected
in the other
as a circle of one.
Connected by
the rhythm
of wave lines,
slowly becoming
lost
in a moving maze —
drowning
in a sea of
Self-indifference.
Look again,
our eyes looking
beyond the other —
connections weakening
in our
once upon a time
circle of one.
Our circle of one,
now a reflection,
a hurtful delusion
of what was,
leaving only
a few lines
connecting
the symmetry of
pleasure and pain,
vanished as a whole.
Fabric
of the whole
lost,
no longer
a balance
between
pleasure and pain,
now a distant
Dylan sound,
“Behind
every beautiful thing,
there’s some
kind of pain.”
— kenne
Our son Kevin was always fascinated by mirror images and did some startling design work with that idea. I enjoyed the poem immensely, Ken, reflecting on the mirror of all of us inside each of us and contemplated your image for awhile too.
Our circle of one,
now a reflection,
a hurtful delusion
of what was,
leaving only
a few lines
connecting
the symmetry of
pleasure and pain,
vanished as a whole.
Perhaps this is the anthem for humanity, a reflection of hurtful delusion, the symmetry of pleasure and pain, but then the moment when it is vanished as a whole.
This is all good work.
Thank you for the comment. When we write, it should come from the heart and touch other hearts. I had not thought of my words as an “anthem for humanity,” but standing back, I agree. You help me to be able to “stand back.”
I see the painful evolution of relationships in your poem: “a hurtful delusion of what was” …… the yin and yang of pleasure and pain but one seems to overpower the other: “no longer a balance between pleasure and pain” … Have they joined so intimately that they become one, or is the pleasure of relationship overpowered by the pain?
Your poem is rich and invites further reading. Thank you for sharing.
As with life, writing this poem had elements of pleasure and pain with the poem having more balance than life. Here, the poem is the narration of the voyage between pleasure and pain, each completely dependent on the other as the poet is dependent on the reader. Both enter an end in the body, the incarnate form of experience.
Thanks for the comment.
I am so in awe of lifes paradoxes: Also, all too often, behind some pain is a beautiful thing. Thank you for your poem, Keene. Your words do touch deeply.
Thanks. I’m please that the poem touched you.