Filled with perfect

FOR ONCE THERE WAS A PERFECT TIME
By justme 

For once there was a perfect time, filled with perfect, in perfect rhyme.
The laze of man, of thing and things and all the emptiness that human brings
Met with perfect, at the door, dropped it’s bag and cried no more.
Yet human man he soon forgot, built his castle, learned to rot.
Forgot that perfect, held his hand, tolled the roads, ploughed the land.

Then one day when man was old, a moment touched, a silence hold.
Of a perfect day, not noticed then, cared then less, cared not again.
It’s that call that calls him now.
Frets the beads, upon his brow.

For….
…….perfect came and perfect went
A perfect moment, no man has spent
For perfect is as perfect be, perfect touch, as perfect see.
Yes perfect called, this man missed thee
For perfect shouts, so silently.

Perfect kissed with perfect breath
Then perfect looked,
Then perfect,

left.∞

Read by the author

Credits: poem @ justme; Image: CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved.

 

The beginning of existence

The action surrounding the connecting of two, leading to the rhythm and joining together as if one, is the fulfilment of a desire of completion, once standard, then lost, once passive, then searched. The same action is not determined by an act of free will, but triggered by a memory of what once was. The memory provoked and stimulated through the gross or the conscious is an indication of the completion and , left by others,  the beginning of existence.

Credits: writing © justme; Image © CarinPhoto; All rights reserved