Circles Poem by Emotional Fool

Often I think what life is,
Some abstract statements,
Some raw analogies,
Always glide by my mind.

None incorrect in it's message,
But none complete enough,
Part by part, bit by bit,
Meanings & logics of are found.

Circles are what I link it with,
Some big some small,
Each one with it's own centre,
Distinguished with it's own identity.

Some cris-crossing each other at specific points,
Overlap they do to some extent,
Others in love with the same centre,
But bound at different depths.

Living is an art,
To be in all the circles and still to be in none,
Sometimes pushing out to the outer circle,
Sometimes folding into the closer one.

All we need is force to move in and out of circles,
Sometimes pulled by gravity of love,
And at times shirked by the raw pressure of hatred,
It is tussle and probably, will always remain one!