Practice Makes Perfect (A Poem)

One, two, three
Chapters
Lines
Cups of coffee
Thousand words

Not quite done

Write it down
Write it down
Work it out

Find the phrase that
Makes it perfect
Over and over
Then and now

“Time, time, time
See what’s become of…”

My work
My mind
Too much
Or much too finite

Practice, practice, practice
The difference between:
Talent
And
Mastery

Patience, patience, patience
Is a virtue
Is a struggle
Is the space between
Good
And
Great

Not there yet, but –

Almost, almost
Always almost
Forever so close

Keep it up,
Keep it up,
Keep up the fight

It’s the plight
Of the creative soul:

To make it beautiful
But know
It will never be whole

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