It is said that everyone

is expendable, like the

line crossed out in a song;

it is said that no one will

remember you when

you’re gone, like the

circle that recalls no point.


But everything is touched

and changed by the souls 

inside—each face unique,

each hand’s line, each word’s

timber echoes on and on;

each person replaced, irreplaceable, 

an unrepeatable part of the cycle 

renewed that flows round and around, 

turning and moving and shaping 

its once and only forever magic form.