I pour my tea into the sapphire
porcelain teacup.
The world is quiet and I breathe
The steam thoroughly
And absorb.
Time passes by
Without a moment of worry,
Without a moment of hurry,
Without a moment of fuss.
The clocks ticks itself away,
Bringing my age along with it.
Every moment wasted, or spent?
The uncertainty is not apparant to me.
I enjoy the peace.
My legs, my mind, my strength
All need adequate rest.
The existence of perfection
Is not within the physical.
I am not a god,
Nor will I ever be.
Here, I hear my thoughts,
Every pulse of emotion
Is just beneath my skin.
It is quiet...
Very quiet.
I needed this time,
It is not wasteful.
2007-07-30
03:54:21
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9 answers
·
asked by
Anthony C
4
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry