Studies in Flaw

 

A perfect pen,

a perfect mind.

Would the words

be anymore requited, then?

The perfect day,

the perfect place.

Would it make the Sun

shine any other way?

 

Unburdened and cast aside,

such a mantle

as what we wore

through those uncertain times.

Keep the sword,

but doff the armor,

and let the daylight

play across your face.

 

Life was never perfect,

and so,

there is no point

in gazing over your shoulder.

Let the day play out

perfect

in every way

that you are in it.

 

There are no perfect words,

nor perfect mouths

to speak them.

There is no perfect time,

but the one we choose to live.

We used to hide our hearts

for fear

of the archer’s arrow,

but now,

we stand open

in the light of day.

 

So quickly we have gone

from shallow, haunted creatures,

to ones whose minds

are full of new ideas.

Imagine,

that all we had to do

is shed the signs we clung to,

but we were born

in darkness

and never knew the day.

Not like this;

not this way.

 

Not in this fervent purity.

Honey golden Sun

and clean air.

No, it is not perfect,

nor are we.

We are studies in flaw,

but we know of love,

now

that we are able.

 

 

HG – 2022

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