Circular by Margarita Cavazos


I thought there were stairs.

That there were ladders.

That there were mountains to climb.

But there is no summit because life is circular.


There are only states of agreement.

And we agreed progress is a fine line up.

But that line comes around.

Enclosing itself.


We make our existence understandable by offering laws; ensuring a state of morality.

We come up with parables,

With analogies to explain the importance of these laws.

We stunt our own progress under the impression that the only way to go is up; to rise above.


We embraced the law thinking we understand it.

Rise from what?

Escape from what?

Heading towards what?

You cannot separate, for it never leaves.


Nature is circular,

Hence life is circular.


The ladder does not exist.

The stairs do not exist.

The mountains we feel we must climb,

They do not exist.


We refrain from the thought that we can grow without upwardness.

We refrain from the thought that maybe we are not under anything.

We refrain, and we accept what has been preset.


So, that in our memory,

We accept life as a constant struggle in which to lift ourselves up out of.

Yet, we cannot lift ourselves out of our lives,

Because life is circular.


We’re already on the surface.

There is nothing to break through.

We exist in the revolution;

We are always in a turn around.


Hence, life is circular.

There is no top.

Under this notion, perhaps one could say that

We are all on top of the world.


If, and only if, it would suffice the supposed feelings of our own inadequacies.


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