One Can Wait Forever/ For The Ideal Poem That Will Never Come Poem by Shalom Freedman

One can wait forever for the ideal poem
That will never come-

Or relent,

And write down the lines
That come as they come
Irrelevant, incidental, momentary
As one's own feeling of oneself is.

Like the breeze of these instants,
Like the shadows of the leaves
As they trace their motions
On the sun- touched ground,

Like all which is passing
Without any real evidence of its moment's remembrance
As dying as oneself is
Forever.