The Imperfect Is Perfect

Here comes Spring,

I try to wring

From each inventive writing

To unveil treasures hidden

Or forgotten.

Too often,

I see imperfection

In all human relation.

Does it make sense

That in the longing

Lies the glory of intense feeling

Inside your silent body?

With the most invaluable magic

Ties not to satisfaction,

But to the engine that

Powers it,

The imperfect is perfect.

Writing is burning profession.

If the joy is not overlooked

and the audience gets hooked,

Then nothing shall be impacted

And sorted to a digression.