poem of the day December 14 

Inside yourself

somewhere

between a

few aches and pains

is the grand perfection

of which we all

are born 

This primordial

illusive perfection

hiding in

plain sight

somewhat covered by

the imperfection

of life's journey

is waiting

at the ready 

to be reborn

to be let out

like light from an old star

always there

but only 

if one peaks out of

the world of suffering