No one can make better,
What is best when made and done.
A wheel revealed is what it is.
And squares do not roll...
Within corners,
That enfold.
Some will research for hours at a time,
To define with adjustments...
A seduction of frustrations.
To replace what has been made.
As they watch their 'creations'
Go to waste and decay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem