He was glad to be alive.  Now he's mad from being alone.  It's the worst way to go, when your mind's a home that you no longer own.  Too much time spent passing time.  In his search for some proof of enlightenment, to fix the hole in his roof where the light gets in...  the whole of his head came crashing down, under the weight of going in circles, and now...

In circles, his mind goes in circles.  His mind is not his own.  In certain circumstances...  in certain circle dances, throughout the four seasons, his mind is not his own.  His life's a reminder to be forgotten.

Sometimes the mirror shows the confusion in his eyes.  Sometimes the mirror shows a conclusion to goodbyes.  The roots of our existence are true in their persistence, as we try to live lives of fortitude and pride.  No remorse from the source of our trials, just a grave case of hysterical survival.

In circles, his mind goes in circles.  His mind is not his own.  In certain circumstances...  in certain circle dances, throughout the four seasons, his mind is not his own.  His life's a reminder to be forgotten.

"​How long have we been covered by the clouds of confusion ?  All the hapless delusions bring only beautiful illusions.  Such pain not included, these dreams were concluded.  It becomes crystal clear why the banishment of fear (the essential concern from which we learn) can never leave the ground.  If we are to be sound of mind, then remembering our mortality must become divine.

Intelligence can become an attractive sense, if it is placed carefully so in an apropos scenario.  Entropy qualifies as such:  a gradual decline into chaos, an infinite loss.  But logic can impose order, as we grow older...  until the heart is strong enough to allow itself to heal.  Only then can the soul feel a renewed sense of purpose, and carry on in this circus."

​-- Me