I know I’m not perfect, I’m not trying to be.
I am heavily flawed and broken
Serving as a vessel to bear and hold.
Hold all of the good and the bad.
I know I’m no saint, neither are you.
Nor are you perfect or complete or whole
You too are an empty vessel.
We both recklessly wonder towards the light
Stepping on broken glass and rose thorns,
We lose ourselves in the pain of it all
But we always wonder back.
Maybe our paths will cross somehow
Until then we’ll both remain imperfect and empty
We’ll remain imperfect and empty.
Until fate grants us her grace
And we meet by chance alone
Maybe then our respective flaws will fill each other
And we’ll wander aimlessly as one.

England versus Italia – A Pretty Kettle of Poetry
Dedicated to Paolo Rossi who died this week As Geoff Hurst plays a blinder against GermanyThe home fans rub their eyes in disbelief.Italians take their