That Emptiness

No matter how small the gap
In which you confine the curve
Of circle between straight lines,

How useful you find the tool
Of close approximation
Approaching infinity,

You will never close that gap.
Between the idea of pi
And a trillion-plus digits

Tip-toeing right up to it,
There’s always an error left.
Zeno’s arrow paradox

May be swept aside, and yet,
There’s no crack in consensus
Your pi can’t reach to the edge

Where the circle simply spins.
The fractions shrink forever
And yet, they never get there,

Never reduce the error
To nothing—always a gap,
A something, that emptiness.