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| To Writing |
| Jakob Fall To Write The Perfect Poem |
| To write the perfect poem Is every writer's highest ambition. He dreams and fancies himself among the giants, Though he knows he has only come so far on the graces of their shoulders. The clutter and debris scattered around the trashcan's base Grow steadily as a larvae into a moth. The pen, teeming with ideas of the grandest sort, Attempts to climb the insurmountable stairs, And, with a horrible lurch, Loses its balance and topples back down. Man's story is far to broad and far to awesome To be contained in a mere sheet of parchment. Therefore, the purest poem is not to be written, But it can only be held in the ultimate tribute to life: the Human Soul. |