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So I guess this is more poetic prose but it seems to belong here. This is my very most favorite writing style, I enjoy both reading and writing in this fashion. I realize it is not for all.
What form does perfection wander in, what ruse does it use to evade me?
Perfection comes to me boastfully in many forms, Friend and Foe.
Lover and Child, Leader, and Companion.
What guise does it use to deceive me, for it does make claims of
Gracing it’s self upon the beings of many in my life, and yet,looking as if one's sense of self depends on it, for this perfection in these claimants, and as of yet I can not see it for myself.
I would so like to think that perfection does not house it’s self on my person, for I would not want to entertain that visitor for long, it begs too much attention, and requires
Too much support, I could not give my time in that fashion.
Rather I would project my energies into learning something new, rather than professing I
Need not acquire assistance in any knowledge, for then there is nothing left to ascertain.
Therefor would I not be quite busy, keeping my guest….. Perfection, happy for all my days?
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