I left what mark I could.
A tree in the meadow has
our hearts carved on it.
We cut us and shared blood.
That was a century way back.
Now we're dust and forgotten.
Maybe we're stars in the night
still terribly in desperate love.

What is perfection
Living up to others expectations
Living the dreamers dream
Navigating the roads
Invisible streams
Following your heart
Or the fallacious

Bridging and balancing

Believing in self
Living and loving
Kindness and compassion
In words and deeds
Is humanity supreme
In my perception
Is perfection indeed