Upkeep Poem by Adora Williams
Upkeep
As we achieve perfection
We'll mess it up
It's our nature
Hence the history of art
Who said that the perfection that was before
All contained in a dot
Wasn't before yet turning to get there
To return to that state
And that happened over and over again?
Perfection means stability
We're not bound to stability
Living life means denying any possibility
Of stability
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 5:15:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
