Seeing Imperfections With Perfections (A Poetry of Life)

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Our bones are aching every day by wounds.

Pain makes us feel weak. And imperfections become visible clothing every day.

But I see you perfectly.

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I fulfill your estrangement with comfort.

On the days when you are sad, I will enter into your wound, clean it with my love, even though perfection is running very far at the other end.

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But I love you perfectly, bind your emptiness that was once open.

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Your gentleness is like the cooling waterfall that soothes aching heart and painful body.

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