has forever ruined the word "Now" for me but otherwise I loved this, esp.

the tragic
misses
the flaws
that create
the masterpiece
of longing

It just reminds me of my relationship to art in general. The emotional escalation needed to start creation then the stability needed to fashion it in workable form. For me, one always seems to be missing when the other is present.

On another note, this poem reminds me of how all things can collapse into each other. I had a similar experience with this poem. I post it only because I thought it was beautiful and we all need more beautiful things:

The starry flower, the flower-like stars that fade
And brighten with the daylight and the dark,--
The bluet in the green I faintly mark,
And glimmering crags with laurel overlaid,
Even to the Lord of light, the Lamp of shade,
Shine one to me,--the least, still glorious made
As crowned moon, or heaven's great hierarch.
And, so, dim grassy flower, and night-lit spark,
Still move me on and upward for the True;
Seeking through change, growth, death, in new and old,
The full in few, the statelier in the less,
With patient pain; always remembering this,--
His hand, who touched the sod with showers of gold,
Stippled Orion on the midnight blue.

(F. G. Tuckerman)

~Arrow