It's the chase
the irresistible impulse
the irksome wanting
--often undefined and vague-
not despair or angst
more  restlessness and discontent
a strong hint of emotional thirst
and too often in desperation
the blind plunge into some void
alas! the common inheritance
of heart and mind so prevalent
heedless of any dire consequence--

but there's no enlightenment
nor light at the further end
only the mocking sneer of time
and foreboding darkness at the bend.

Don't call these, days
but shadows of night
sorrows are worn in every place
mankind struggles in direst plight-

where have they vanished, joys and grace?
what should be done to set human life right?
why are hearts lost in tortuous maze?
would the morrow bring the awaited sunlight?

No perfect love
no perfect moment
no perfect life
no perfect person-

no perfect poem
no perfect prose
no perfect sunrise
no perfect rose-

no perfect song
no perfect singer
no perfect thinker
no perfect answer-

no perfect beauty
no perfect Nature
don't read my poetry
it hardly brings rapture.

I put myself away some days
and was richly endowed by grace