BETTER THAN PERFECTION

When it’s cold inside,
but your people are inside,
what are you going to do?

When it’s colder still,
outside,
where highway traffic swiftly flies,
and on light-clad body
hair and goosebumps rise,
while furled brows knit,
and with spring day shivers,
wrinkle,
where do you go?

In or out?–

You haven’t
got
the slightest clue.

The light out there
shines as more gentle, wholesome fare,

But, just within,
others who’ve just climbed
the grand and winding stair,
though not all notice
if you’re there,
are waiting still for you.

There’s rooms and spaces
that have you cramped,
and ill at eases,
until, unless
some magic shows,
you shake it off,
and smiles spread,
and tension melts
when some small shift
in some tiny group
among your billions cells
occurs
and tickles
your heart’s fancy
till the sensation
no longer hurts,
but rather,
pleases.

And if your entry, by some crazy chance,
brings further opportunity within your hands,
or at least, your glance,

perhaps you’ll make a strong connect
where you and some others intersect,
as you listen, talk, or look or dance,

and then, you’ll know
just why you finally
came and stayed–

to bring about some end so good,
it makes your people
very glad
that was the choice you made,
when you’d thought you could have equally as well
in shadows loitered
and there all options reconnoitered,

whilst you tried by analytic tinkering
as cruel as live dissection
to wield your wish to wash away
every last speck
of imperfection.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s