Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

November 30, 2013

Stature

Friend, surrounded now by the black coats
and no longer in as much of a crisis, I get
your paralysis. I see you felt you had to jump
from one perfect stepping stone to the next,
to be each yourself. Perfection, you named it,
your downfall. My downfall was my rising,
and we crossed paths in transformation.
We each saw each in greater clarity for both:
you falling for perfection, ending;
I rising from downfall, perfected.


Posted by delire at November 30, 2013 12:21 PM