Existential Symmetry

Like a peripheral feeling not meant to be felt so much as to feel you. Almost like the breath instead of what you breathe. I can't explain it. It's just nothing like anything I've ever felt. Like the snake eating it's own tail, the two points of a circle reaching it's only meaningful state whether in a simple circle or any combinational mobius. All I know is that it is right. Without ever being close to perfection, there is simply nothing imperfect about it. It is the moon in the night sky and the rising sun waking the flowers and the world. It is the turning of the Earth and the planets and the blinking of the stars, the bicycle wheels of God, perpetually spinning. It is wonderful, and it is mine.