Perfection

The cold moon stood over the frozen figure,
His tears suspended like stars unfallen
From frigid cheeks,
But do not grieve for him –
His spirit flies with the wisp of frosty clouds,
The blackness of space is calling,
No care for the rigid body he leaves behind
Let them find it, ticks the final thought
As the clocks in his mind whir down,
A statue to pass the test of time,
An example of what happens
When you achieve a moment of
Perfection

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