poetry is perfect

You can’t solve your many problems

through description

all the languages are beautiful

And poetry is perfect

I was talking to the future

Many solemn moons ago

And she told me not to worry

For the worst has yet to be

I live about my days

Pretend the other is not there

Love is wanting to be loved

I can see the dawn arise

You can kill everything that’s outside

But the other will always have been

The desire to be fades away

When you are what you‘re tasked in becoming

Be watchful of those in high spirits

And whence their temper has sprung

No one lives to see riches turn ragged

And the poor will be turned away, empty