There Are No Standards At All. Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is always a person standing by, nitpicking and critically saying: (takes one and says) this one
this one
does not meet a standard, you are writing this?

and i answered yes, and i stare at him and sort of asking,
who are you? but i let this pass, i do not mind, this is mine and
this to me is the best that i have done,

it is not for sale, and it is not for praise.

ms., this is not every for your consumption, it is not consumable,
it is beyond: commerce, even beyond
death.

it stays here, it is rooted, and i do not intend to bring it there.
coz, everything is inferior there, ..all that is found here.

all these do not meet the standard, because there are no standards.