My circular reasoning never makes a point, nor does it have an angle, just 360 degrees of panoramic bliss to piously anoint you with, as you're solemnly swaying in the beautiful breeze. I've got no lines to cross, rotating around the diameter. I'm rolling with the punches, with them all being perfectly pulled, near the equator of every probable parameter, utter permutation or potential possibility. Try triangulating my position and I'm just not there. I stop when I see a red and white octagon. I mix a metaphor, for four rights forever make a square. By the time you know I'm moving on, I'll be gone. Both in levity and gravity do we freely rotate and orbit all about your angelic aura and halo, which emanates from you, like the sun, as you freely create a heavenly atmosphere, above us, as we bask below. Rounding errors are likely to occur, in most any iteration, as we never really want to reinvent the wheel. Even if we develop a weak replica or cheap imitation, at least we'll know it's ours, alone, to own and it's real. Deep inside my inner circle, well within the radical radius, I've completely circumnavigated the circumference. Any way I slice it, looking for my piece of pie can be dangerous. You're purely the apple of my eye, for you're my preference. What comes around goes around, just like fortune or fate. Playing Russian roulette, you get to pull to an inside straight. It's never too soon, but sometimes it's always too late. If you've got endless and unending faith, things will turn out great. Temper fugit, as well as semper fi. It's quid pro quo, although I know there's no lo contendre. Carpe diem, for I've just got to try, as I see opportunity spinning away from me.
Meet Marc Geller 