G.R. Gaus (April 11 1950 / St. Louis)
Ever since I can long remember,
Trying to make everything right,
Now my life, reached September,
Long struggle, turns into a fight.
Facing the truth of good enough,
Can’t compete with anything more,
Giving in and calling my bluff,
No anticipation of what’s in store.
Perhaps it’s all inside of us,
Born with the gift from beginning,
Relearning how to coalesce,
As natural voice, takes to singing.
I’ve never met that perfect one,
Why should I think I could be?
In the end, will life feel undone?
Or will death simply set me free?
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Perfection by G.R. Gaus )
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