The Absolute Always With Its Slightest Twist (From, Dried Flowers) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Each day is young and not much involved,
In much to do and before spreading out;
Those ways that becomes clearly loved,
To explain reason in each wandered doubt.
To burn on bridges that other there might,
And how to digress their awful distress;
For each is a way aloft in the light,
That comes again in new eager bareness.
The wish and take of each new attention,
Unseen though and decided to be seized;
Through spreading out with the reprehension,
That every way before had there unpleased.
The absolute always with its slightest twist,
Often more in there - you surely have missed.