perfection
possibility of perfection
up blind alleys
just across the street
around next corner
no luck in the draw
not flesh of good fortune
these are anemic
manifestations in grey scale
compared to inimitability
no mistakes
no guesses
perfection is just that
brilliant white
richest black
no shades of ashen wont
it's there! -- take it!
before it just disappears.
vcp
7 December 2010
Comments
Ian,
Ian,
Your statement is entirely a matter of conjecture, and while I do not altogether agree with you, I respect your belief. I believe that there is a spirit that is attached to the individual body, but that it is shared with every other body, therefore does not necessarily exist within it, even though it does. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that the spirit exists within and without the body. This is also a matter of conjecture. Trippy, huh?!
But this is not really what this poem is about.
Thank you for the very interesting remarks.
Victor
the golden ring. hmmmm. ~A
the golden ring.
hmmmm.
~A