C The Circle Line

The old may call the young na?ve:
a dew-drop dead by morning
resents what grass blades might achieve.
Yet the Circle Line can just make sense.
Consider the Sun - it rises, it sets -
or a cycle lane of infinite length.
See? Death's not a zero in the present tense
but something Buddhist, Eastern, cool
water revolving possibility's wheel
full-circle, full-cycle, the endless half-life
of a boundless trial of mathematical rules.
It seems that circles can't be lines.
The latter is 'narrow' and the former is 'wide'
and the former is 'zero' and the latter is 'one'
yet: both can claim to shape space and time.
So, though the old may mutter enviously
(whilst blindly clutching at infinity)
that "youth is wasted on the young",
while 'greener' grass is bought, not sold:
age is equally wasted on the old
(who've been clutched by infinity all along).