Oxymoron

The mystery of a circle makes not quite

A mystery.  Circles are a perfect shape

And with ideals, so like the Phoenix’ flight,

Renewals endlessly, the mind must gape.

Since circles are, each one, a flawless line,

The only way that they can be the nth

Named mystery is that they in calm define

Unending loveliness.  They are the length

That goes around eternally, again,

Again, again.  Since that is understood,

They cannot be a mystery, yet contain

A measure wished, the first and final good.

..A perfect oval is a circle’s dream,

….Dior élan, a curve as in Christ’s stream.