Precise

Not too much and not too little, just right, being in a world of perfect light.

Not too far away and not too close, on track, not from excess, nor from lack.

No need to fill the cup to overflow, or let the fire dim and go.

Fools carry more than they can handle, greed takes all it can, to the point of scandal.

The right amount is the feast, to be enough, and yet completely free, at least.

Not grinding till you burn and break, but pausing for the moment all should take.

Not cluttered shelves and closets bursting at the seams, but empty spaces and quiet dreams.

A simple dress, a well-made chair, enough to use, enough to care.

Some laughter shared, some time alone, a quality of time that's truly own.

Not taking all the earth can give, but taking just enough to live.

Mindful choices and nothing to waste, gratefully, a simple taste.

The sweet spot where harmony belongs, not too much, just a little, precise — one can't be wrong.

Quantity for the handicapped mind, quality of content, sober kind.

Inferiors covered by too much of a pathetic mask, never reaching the desired task.

No sense in trying to be precise, when one does not even realize.

The lack of precision is very dangerous, when the margin of error is narrow, looking fabulous.

The answer to the right question is worth a great deal, more than a precise answer to the wrong feel.

Precision in thought is true decision in life, one accurate measurement is worth a thousand experts in strife.

Impossible worlds' existence proves infinite laws, it is the maths in its precision and divine cause.

Happiness in a sustainable sense is not about extremes, it is the art of the creme in schemes.

Making meaningful moments last,  memories that stretch the forecast.