It was a long year.
All that thinking,
The ins and outs of precision,
Measured as it was.
All for what?
A tidy result at the end,
But somehow empty,
Not fulfilling,
But lacking that sense of ACCOMLISHMENT.
The year ended down a notch,
But with two more DVDs to go,
To even things up a bit.
Knowing it wouldn’t be enough,
Even with everything on my lap,
And the likes of the world to own.
Nothing else is what I need,
But PERFECTION.
What will I do when I don’t find it?
I’m left with you,
Designated to me.
And how I should pray for you.
To come up to the standard.
For I want you a certain way, and
My vision is not complete yet.
But for the balance I didn’t want,
I would rule for you.
But would I rule for me?
Thankfully, my friend, balance is a slip of my destiny,
A straightening of what should have been,
Overseen by the watchful, good Lord.
Talking Writing 