In small proportion real beauty to know,

the full extent of perfection slowly grow.

Sense sublime deeply through all things,

a memory from long ago that still impels.

 

Chaotic beauty in struggle seen as art,

causing havoc by ego’s hope, torn apart.

Dying memories never reached that dream,

aspiration to inspire before the expired gleam.

 

Incomplete measures by lofty composition,

when simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

Clarity by intuitive perception as measure,

to know the real known as treasure.

 

Making virtues out of faults dims the light,

ideal means and its embarrassing sight.

The imperfect self towards true realization,

hereafter and its other sphere continuation.

 

The greatest love is covered by indifference,

in admiration by respect as reference.

Divinity by short measures is human perfection,

humanity in long measures are divine limitation.