Rare Form

By Solomon Hawks

A contradiction in all
I don't know me
But this is he
Never have I met
A living contradiction

Is this hypnosis or reality
My compass spins endlessly
I don't know where we are going
I don't care
Just take me there

I fill myself
Only to be empty
For us this reality
Will not do

Unaccepted and imperfect
Our perfection
is against its being
Perhaps another time
How about now

Every letter upon my eyes
First gazed upon this light
That destined summer day
When my hand first began
To write

This is me, mucho gusto
Epoch, Epiphany
Just beyond the flash, is you
Showing me, myself

You point and smile
And I gaze upon
What may never be
But already is

Nothing is clear
Because this is now
Only what has been done
Can be seen

The sunset happens
After the sun dips under
And not before
There we are, together

Will you come
On this journey
The pursuit of perfection
In a world of imperfection

I tell you it means nothing
When you really are my everything
I tell you the world is yours
When my world is in your hands

Withered is your flower
Yet ripe your fruit
Only half is right
The other wrong