With a dot in the middle, you see the eye of the sun.
Our moon makes a trail around the earth, and our day turns to-night as a reflection of it, in a spin.
As the cycle of life men have an arrow, while women have a plus.
It represents humanity, but we chant to other symbols.
When slipped over our fingers it shows marriage, vanity, pride, a promise of loyalty, or wealth.
In the middle point between profit and debt, it means sharing, a gift, or getting something for free.
Ancient stories portray it as the forecast of immaculate sex, and it celebrates the magic of creativity.
A wild celebration of animal nature wears only paint, and babies are still made by a conquered spirituality.
Pull on one side of it, and you get an egg, a tear drop, a seed, and half of the yin yang.
Put two droplets together, and you get a heart as two eyes held together, in a stare of hate, or love.
The foundation of a medicine wheel, it speaks of compassion in a mandala, with arms outstretched in rays.
To protect the feeling it gives people, it prevents, starts, and finishes war in the silence of peace.
Is it the flag of the future in the shadow swing of the sundial, and the rotation of a clock?
Math and science have stripped it down, to mean the coldest temperature we believe exists, or nothing.
I hope to put it on your face forever, in the wonderment of a number that breeds a smile.
Life on this planet means everything to me, so happy Ishtar, and happy Easter.