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 Writing.Com Item ID: #863189
 Title:  The Circle Is
 Item Type: Book
 Brief:  This was the final project for my Intro to the Arts class -- in 1970!
 Last Modified: 06-30-2004 @ 9:06pm
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I'd been looking for it for ages, but it wasn't until I cleaned out the old boxes that need to be discarded before I move that I found this little booklet I made for my class many years ago. While I hope my writing has improved, I find that I still like this. Perhaps in the not too distant future, I will see if I can improve it... or maybe not.

The option I chose for the assignment (as best as I can remember it) was to take an inanimate object and develop a relationship with it and then to express it creatively, using any art form. I chose the brick terrace in front of the library.* The bricked area is a circle with six concrete circular benches and a tree. I would have liked to dance, but I'm not particularly gifted that way. So I did what I can do.

*This was at SUNY Geneseo


The Circle Is


Away -- looking for...
          If I could
          float or fly
I could find...


Sunday parades pass.
It's Sunday afternoon
                             time for a walk.
Today is Thursday.


The bright air
lights up the day.
Life shines anew
though the last
bright life of fall
                    has passed.

The sun shines upon
my soul. I
have peace.


Quiet night
rush gently
around me.


The dance!
          Dance 'round and
                   around and
                              around and...
the night must end.
          Dancers fade.

                   I've left the circle.


A leaf.
A gift
  from a friend
within my circle.


Quiet moments again.
Even with people milling about
         and the bells
                   and a buzzing from a motor.
It's Quiet.


I can come cry on your shoulder.
You're gentle and I am comforted.
All is right within your circle.
Good tree, who hears my silent tears,
I must not mourn for what is done,
or left undone, and badly botched up.


I am alone.
                    Free.
                             Unencumbered.
I am assailed by serenity on every side.


I can see beyond my circle.
I like to   look out
                     see others come in
                                       watch.
It makes me happy.
                             Smile.
But
         mostly I'm here alone and
                             not alone.


A lone bird passes overhead.
A flurry of snow flies by
         to
            land
                     on the brick and
         melt.
More flurries fall more furiously.
Not all who walk within my circle understand.
The silence doesn't warm them.
They see only the snow
and feel only the icy wind.

                   I know.


Voices are crystal.
Old like the wind.
I am. The circle is.


A red brick sea.
         Endless -- with limits.
Six boats.
         Steady. Reliable.
Such funny boats.


They call to me
to carry me away from
the noisy, rushing crowd.
But I must stay.
                   I look back.
                             I know.
"I'm sorry."


How can I stay away?

How can I say
I've not known you always?
It's as if I have come
so often into your embrace
                             for comfort.


Pain.
For a moment I'm alone.
IN MY CIRCLE!!
But patience.
I break the cold serenity of a new wonder
to see the comfort of the old wonder --
my circle.
I'm not betrayed.


There is no emptiness in my heart.