Poem -

Under Development

It is true...

I am a work in progress
I am no where near complete..
I think?
If I had completed some unspoken
Unofficial apex.. 
Would I not know it?
Would I perceive myself as flawless?
How can one interpret a perfect...
human,
Is it in their physical beauty?
Or their mental prowess?
Or in the strength of their muscles?
I can only sense that it is none of those.
and in a way all of those.
It would have to be measured in 
some esoteric way and by a 
truly metaphysical standard.
Held up to a divine yard stick
I know I fall short.
The attempt to recreate a messiah
One that functioned in a realm of
extreme supernatural faith.
That scaled over the attempts to 
hem him into a corner,
Sailed through the traps and
schemes to achieve his goal.
In such a big way.
He is my savior. 
For sure I can count on his 
perfection.
He paid the price for me.
and I love him for it.
So I will keep trying for that
yard stick... and know

I am in good hands.

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