I announce my next task:
improvement of The Circle.

I shall strive to make The Circle better
so that after my redefinition,
all circles drawn prior to it
will look weak.

Upon hearing of this
a man approaches me
with a pill, two pills,
more pills.  “Here,
these will render your task
trivial.”  

They flatten me a while but then
with the realization that they also
are circles, I am illuminated
from within.

So the man approaches me
with a straitjacket.  “Here, put this on,
these arms will encircle you, be
calm and cease the Work.”  

It holds me for a while but then
with the realization that I 
embody the Circle, I shake
free and stand naked.

The man returns with a gun.
“I give up, as should you.
Here are rounds, barrel,
chamber, all of which hold
the Circle you seek.  
Take this, and go
with whatever God you choose.”

I stare at the gun and the bullets
for a while, turn away,
come back to them
again and again.  
It is insanity,
the man has said,
to attempt such a thing
as redefining the Circle
which has been so right
for so long.

But such perfection, such complacency
leaves me wanting.
To have to leave something alone
just because it is perfect as is,
because others have made it so,
is not my calling.

No matter.  There are sun
and moon and gun and pill
and my arms to answer to,
and a huge work to be done.  

I am no crafter,
I am an artist,
I think.  They’ll all
be rounder someday 
when I succeed.