Perfect is a fleeting thing.
A graceful wind beneath the wing.
One escaping all the planning.
One that passes understanding.
Where unity is once revealed.
A vivid dream is how it feels.
Where strange leads to stranger still.
A marker of the greater will.
One that hides in here and now,
Yet all ways prevail somehow.
In a mix of calm and craze.
A beauty’s panic, a rebel’s daze.
An island trapped by tempestry.
And seas that have forsaken thee.
A frantic search, a passing glance.
Another movement of the dance.
Without a chance to wonder why,
A bird drops down from the sky,
To take them where they need to go.
Their cup once filled now overflows.
The restless souls that yearned for rest,
Find peace in journeys, and in quest.
Their thoughts return as seas subside.
That was one hell of a ride.
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