I know I am not perfect. Perfection is a Grail of sin that overflows my mind with an unfathomable overwhelmingness. To be perfect is to be sane?
Imperfect perfection exists and it is better than pure perfection. A focus on perfection will draw in the weight of every yesterday and every tomorrow and create an imperfect nest upon your shoulders that will allow that weight to declare its new home.
To be perfect is to be fake and unreal. For perfection exists not. Not in your mother. Not in your Father. Not in your pets. The air is not perfect and the sun is not perfect.
Nothing and nobody is perfect. To embrace imperfection is the closest thing to perfection that we can see, hear, and feel.
This poem is not perfect.
©triptucker
T