The Quest for Perfection Ends Here

[jisbell00]

The Quest for Perfection Ends Here


Here is the fire burning every sentient being.
Here is the slow persistence of the Earth.
Here are some things we did: we brushed our teeth,
we gazed on the hibiscus. Have we all
then misbehaved so badly? Have we erred?
Each detail of the day burns in the fire,
until the fire is ready for the Lord.

I stood beneath the shower with my arms
upraised, as if my chains were gone at last,
and praised God – for there is a time for psalms.
It was a private moment, and it’s past.

“The first thirty years are hardest,” said a carmelite
in a book i was reading, & thirty years
will surely teach you a thing or two about silence,
& the sun’s slow arc through heaven, & the moon.
that’s what i’m looking at now, the moon, & i am thinking
how many hours are left until dawn breaks
on the waiting world. we are a thousand miles from morning.
this is exactly what happens every night of our lives.



Edited out:
What makes me labor through the night
is duty. Some things must be done,
and so, I do them. That’s all right.
Nobody lost. Nobody won.

[ray miller]

Enjoyed the read. I think you could do without the 3rd stanza, not least because it would seem apt to go from "it's past" to "The first 30 years are the hardest". But also, it doesn't seem particularly integral to the poem.

[jisbell00]

Thank you, Ray, that is useful counsel as always. Consider it done!

Glad you enjoyed the poem.

Cheers,
John