In a perfect mess,
That's where I relocate myself and find some rest.
Humbly parallelized at nature's side,
When all disappears our loss does qualify,
With everlasting desire mocking the roots of the currupt,
For healing epiphanies to interrupt.
Although the lights we follow are blinding,
Rejoice in the symmetry of finding,
Your strength in every complex apprehension,
To allow your fears their respective attention,
And live with honest graceful graditude,
While learning to accept our faults,
So we can conclude,
Enjoying a perfect mess in solitude.
Copyright © Heather Nichols