By Ellen Winner
For we are the circle, the circle, the circle,
For we are the circle, are we,
It’s away on the wind,
And away with the tide,
And return and return like the sea.
And these are my petals, so fair and so fine,
And my nectar, where drowning in bliss,
All the stars fall together,
The dark gathers close,
Leaning inward to share a sweet kiss.
For we are the circle, the circle are we,
Hand in hand, hand in hand, hand in hand.
Like the moon, like the drum,
Like the line around me
On the earth where the sky meets the land.
And are we the Great Worm who swallowed his tail
And goes rumbling and rolling down time?
Like a bond and a bound’ry,
A con that must fail,
Caught again in our most ancient crime.
Yet arise from the circle. Look down from above,
On your hand a bright coin you can spend.
For its power is for healing, its power is for love,
And it sparkles and sings as it turns hand to hand,
And it laughs on its rounds without end.
And we are the circle, the circle, the circle,
And we are the round without end.
It’s away upon wings, upon four feet and two,
And return and returning again.
“The Circle” © Ellen Winner, 1994
Permission is granted to the public to reprint and use this poem and to set it to music for non-profit purposes.
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