CALL ME BELOVED

i draw pseudo-mandalas behind my desk
and mull over them, consummate circles
across a page, I detail and draw fine lines
until my fingers ache. monks who make them
meticulously from sand will destroy them
once finished, their entire purpose just
to be made. I lose the will to detail any further
and consider crumpling the page but I keep it
instead, and any significance in the decision
is lost completely on me. this is significant too, I think.