There are No Stingless Bees

There are No Stingless Bees

There are no stingless bees;
There are no Bhuddist boars;
Those lions vegetarian
Don’t wander out of doors..

There are no perfect worlds
Or none that I do know:
I guess one must imagine some
Though few will ever go.

There are no perfect deals
Or none I’ve even seen:
That’s torture for the sensitive
And anguish for the mean.

There is no perfect peace
Although there’s often war:
I wish I could avoid such things
But I cannot ignore.

There are no perfect plans
I really wish there were:
Deep down I want the best for all
And hope seems like a blur.

There is no perfect work
I really wish there were
And far worse not to have a job
No comfort, just despair

There are no perfect minds
There are no perfect hearts
Our bodies too are fallible
Despite our science and arts

There are no perfect lives
And certainly not mine
So often I get sick of it
And would exchange with thine.

There is no perfect Love
Romantics wont concur;
Although so many classicists
Are fine clothes on a cur.

There are no perfect tools
No all- perfect machines
Nor are there perfect schools
Or none that I have seen.

There are no perfect thoughts
Nor perfect feelings too
Searching for perfect answers here
Might make a mes of you

There is no perfect art
There is no perfect style:
One always is less than a foot
From vile or utmost vile

And still I chose to live
Despite this conscious pain:
I guess there is in most of us
Some things we cant explain

And still I chose to love
The many and the few
Although its often too complex
And gives me headaches too

My life will someday end
Else I can’t pretend:
Of world oft alien or worse
I hope to make a Friend

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