"PERFECTION" by Beverly Sweitzer
This entry was posted on 8/20/2006 12:21 PM and is filed under Lost In The Fog.
"PEFECTION" by Beverly Sweitzer
(special dedication request from
Barbaro to Lost In The Fog)
I searched o'er all the world for one thing perfect.
I looked at castles and kingdoms men erect.
To every land and every clime I sought
To see if somewhere perfection could be bought.
I gazed at landscapes of many a land.
Admired the seashores and cities of every demand.
I looked at everything that man had made--
Cathedrals and columns of every shade.
I saw the bright lights of a beautiful city.
I tried to understand but my heart felt only pity.
For those, who thought perfection they could meet in the skyscraping columns above the street.
I saw the works called art, in music, and in paint. But each carried the touch of man's sinful taint.
I searched but a perfect one I could not find.
In sorrow I vowed, nothing is perfect in humankind.
Taking courage again in my search, I turned.
To nature to see if there perfection could be learned.
From the beauty of rivers and mountains and streams,
But none of these held the perfection of my dreams.
The glistening white of the snow, melts into spring.
In fall, the leafless tree becomes and ugly thing.
The blue of the sky, when clouded, turns gray.
The blossoms of flowers only bloom in May.
In despair I turned to my home on the plain.
To find, in coat of burnished gold and black tail and mane.
A horse in all degrees, perfection ruled supreme.
The beauty of the stallion was the answer to my dream.
I've ridden in magnificent golden royal coaches,
Manmade monsters, but perfection none approaches.
Machines of power and demons of space and speed
Cannot match the grace and beauty of that racing steed.
Oh, mount him to reach the goal of limitless length.
A thoroughbred giant of muscle and strength.
In all his magnificent glory, the indescribable king.
He stands above the world, pefect in everything.
Such faith and loyalty has spaced man's mind.
Why then did God choose poor and sin-scarred humankind.
I ask, in all this world beneath the sun,
To be called the masters of such a one.
By all the rules of heaven and earth,
He must serve in bridle and saddle girth.
He was made to run and he will obey
With all his strength and power night and day.
In all my wondering of the trackless years,
In countless trips across the hemispheres,
At last I found the race in which he could compete.
Barbaro, perfection, there to find complete.
