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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495709" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>There Are No Finishing Touches</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495709" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">in reality no matter what<br>the usual work is always undone<br>you want to finish it? <br>it finishes you instead<br>look at the pile of books<br>don't you see the fangs on<br>every page? the blood on <br>every chapter<br>each word the taker of the<br>little flesh left in your mind? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495709" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">you try putting the finishing touches<br>like a varnish on the well sanded chair<br>you blow your breath<br>and stand at a distance to look at<br>what a finished product should look</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=495709" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">shiny, yes too shiny<br>and then you miss the sun<br>because what you see is always the<br>mirage beyond<br>your feet still are no master<br>as paths move away<br>as distance stretches itself like<br>light to infinity</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>

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