There is a beauty in the incomplete
Because we look for more
The cliché is that it is the journey
Not the destination that matters
And sometimes clichés are true
There is a complacency that happens
When we no longer have to try
To find happiness or give it
And assume it to be there
Just tumescent sex organs
And dessicated hearts
Contentment has no constancy
Because things get worse
Or better – they do not freeze in time
Like a beautiful piece of amber
They must change or wither
When there is no more striving
We are not fully alive
Love needs to be fed by passion
Hearts need to pulse and throb
Minds need to meet and enthrall
So even when we love
We look for more
Is that the human condition?
To seek beauty and passion
And there is never enough
Never ever enough
