If lines be given by playful muses,
And not from my own poetic labours,
Leaving trails in my mind that bemuses,
Following the flow of fortunes neighbours.
Then you’ll be waiting a long time for this,
A very long time, for they trek slowly,
But when they hit the target, they don’t miss,
And reveal those patterns that are holy.
However it shall come on flying wings,
Eventually I shall have what’s mine,
And I will bring to you, all that it brings,
Speaking the beauteous art that is fine.
Perfection found on the imperfect breeze,
And then seize the opportunity, seize.