There was a time
a letter back would take a month
patiently waited
yearning was a joy,
And here is the times now
a reply three seconds late
what a horrendous fate.

Words are the cheapest ******* thing on the planet
Yet within the pen of a poet
They offer riches to the heart, mind and soul
The give and take of a poem
Perspective of angles and of voice
What echos inside, sometimes with force
Flows through the pen and bleeds out onto the pages of life....

The beauty of nature lies in it's imperfections...

A crooked branch, a deformed leaf, an unformed bud or a wingless fly...

Why do we then strive to be perfect?

Nothing is how it’s supposed to be
Yet it’s perfect how it is
The paradox is plain to see
There’s pleasure in suffering to live

Love an irresistible irritation
A hungry heart of complications
Time refuses to standstill
Innocence was never real

From the moment we’re born
We tread on life
We catch and ride
This purposeful flight

In the end
Perhaps we all ascend
So
Devour to survive
If you can!