In Perfection

Bent

In perfection
imperfection
in the flawless
the flaw
I sit back into the lap
of the stone
that cradles us all
and touch the sound
of the wind
walk with me
my unmet friend
not my walk
no
that would be wrong
just
together apart
but let our paths
gently touch
smell the ideas
that grow in the between
as the beauty that
we can be
becomes
and
in the smelling
of the shared peace
know