Poem Hunter
NS (June 13,1951 / Holland)


Poem By Nick Sym

Some call it a ball,
some would call it a sphere
There are those who would take hold,
then there are others that fear

All is a circle,
all is round
Neither a corner,
nor a edge to be found

An endless curved line,
with no beginning nor end
Do you understand,
do not try to pretend

Time is infinite,
uncaring and cruel
Do not try to control it,
you will be made the fool

Grab part of the circle,
enjoy a piece of the pie
When your slice is gone,
you may realize the answer to WHY.

By Nick Sym

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