One contested definition of a circle is:
A polygon with an infinite number of sides...

- A woman in a pretty skirt walks to work at night aware of the stares she receives, ashamed to quietly be thankful for the attention.
- An old man looks at the crystal ball in his hand, glimmering and shiny, and suddenly understands mortality
- A young boy examines the body of his best friend, cries for hours, then places the dog’s collar around his wrist.
- An old lady suffers, unable to meet her own needs, and wonders where the children she ignored have gone.

- A young man finds his soul mate but loses himself in her.
- Forty-five teenagers wage war on Friday night, their screams of triumph pierce the night air, yet Saturday feels empty and tastes of despair.
- A middle-aged father of three hunts a fresh rose in the moonlight, unaware his wilted rose no longer has thorns.
- A woman in a business suit bangs against the glass, thick and heavy, and shudders when it fails to crack.

- A squinty-eyed man makes good on his debt after years of being gone, then walks off the roof of a forty-story building.
- A child of twelve is ignored by haggard-looking parents, yet cries go out when he, in turn, ignores a drowning victim.
- A wealthy entrepreneur, of sour looks, enjoys a fine meal by the shore, yet wonders why as the tide rolls in he still feels insatiably hungry.
- The drummer in a metal band sees his father’s face in the cowhide, yet each night after the show he still needs ****** to numb the pain.

Pythagoreans thought the universe Eternally Recurs, and we know human life has infinite potential.

If it's true that human lives eternally recur and are filled with infinite potential

Why are we all still in pain?

Maybe it's the faulty wiring of my circuits,
I don't seem to understand those around me,
I tell them don't trust me,
They say they love me,
But I will glitch, synapse misfire,
I'll become a villain in my program,
With no rhyme or reason,
I'll fail miserably to the hero,
That is my destiny,
But at least I'll know my fate,
Better than these faulty wires,
A maze of circuits that never know where to connect,
Is this what it's like to be human?..

.
One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.
.

I adopted Agnes six years ago today.
She'll be my dog until she passes away.
I named my Chihuahua after my late mother.
She's my dog and I won't trade her for any other.
Agnes got sick and a veterinarian examined her.
The vet discovered that she has a heart murmur.
Because of a tick, Agnes was temporarily paralyzed.
I didn't know a tick could do that, I was surprised.
She nearly died and it was hard for me to stand it.
Agnes is one of the greatest dogs on the planet.

It was the middle of the night when the power went out.
My body
accustomed to an ambient electrical hum
refused sleep.
I got up, and you followed
just like always.
We walked to the top of the hill where we lived
at the time
We've moved four times since that night.
We walked,
your collar's gentle sonance
conflicting with the silence.
When we reached the peak
we stood,
our small world lit only by the moon.
We beheld the great expanse
of the shy quiet stars
that usually hid behind the light pollution.
The milky spill of a spiral galaxy,
where we lay spinning on its periphery,
backlit the countless trails of fire courtesy of the Perseids.
And I thought
there have been more nights without street lights
than nights of human history.
These flaming trails of ice and dust,
these remnants of comets,
would exist despite those of us lucky enough
to bear witness
that night the power went out.

this is isn't poem
i just need to get it out
my dog is sick
he's dying
i don't want to lose him
but i don't want him to suffer
i don't want to live without him
but i don't know if he would be better off if i put him down

i'm terrified and i don't know what to do
i don't want to sleep because my dreams are all about losing him or life without him
i feel like i haven't fully comprehended what's happening

i found out about this yesterday right after getting home from a 2 week trip
right before i left, i had a feeling that i should spend a little more time with him because he's getting old
the whole trip something was nagging at me

i knew something was wrong this whole time
and i did absolutely nothing about it
i want him to be as comfortable as possible but i don't think i'll be able to handle being around him without breaking down