Life no perfect

There are no real constellations; it is just an imaginative fantasy since they never link. A comet flashes but it is fleeting. Cherish the moment. Everything changes with out linger, sometimes it does but transient. Life seems predestined, like picking routes from tree trunk to tree twig. There are lots of versions of life route you can choose but you can never jump to another tree. We are born in the trunk and leave the world in the tip of branches, evaporating to the capricious clouds, which insinuate the reality. Feelings changes but things are still there. Life is like an awful song, see how you can embellish it and make it smoother and smoother. There is no real perfectness.