No Matter What

You are never quite certain what you love the most.
The shape, with perfect curves and a certain sleekness?
The warmth of the color? The light, simple finish?
The fact that something so perfect could exist,
could be made by human hands. It’s enough
to make you believe in divine intervention,

not unlike the way I see you.
I am sure there are imperfections,
but somehow in the light,
I am blind to them.

And that sort of blindness suits me just fine,
allowing me to see the beauty
without the distraction of judgement;
allowing me to live in the myth
of perfection, like the child I once was.

In a way, it is the last of what it left
of that childhood, the ability to see perfection
and magnificence where others do not.
It is a form of make-believe
that brings me far more joy than the tearing down
so common around me, leaving me
to live in awe of what is there,
no matter what.

About this poem

I have come to understand I see things differently than most people. I used to think there was something wrong with me. But in recent years, I have come to believe it is not a wrong or right, it simply is. It has cost me at times, but no matter. I have come to embrace it,

The picture was taken at the Hancock Shaker Village in Hancock, Mass.

Tom