Perfection (a poem of inspiration)
The delicate...lies on the precipice...a balance in nature's design,
That created marvel, occurring over eons, only time can refine.
The beautiful, the magnificent, crafted of earth's finest resource,
The pinnacle of such a wondrous magnitude, on its natural course.
Each minute in the march of time should be a precious accent,
As if a predestined movement of finest craftsman to present.
Landscapes painted in a refinement of tones, across the land.
True beauty's most defining moment, all so rich and so grand.
Every measured cup so poured into the revered recipe of adoration,
Baked in a generous sunlight and to bask, as a benevolent divination.
Bold reflections made in the blue seas, that of each skylit reverie,
Daytime colors, all to decorate, and by nighttime's moonlight to see.
All was created by our god's own hands, each smallest entity
Now to await our every nourishing care, as stewards our identity.
Without the best and positive concern, a questionable future to be,
Every creature's future we hold, for each to live happy and free.
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