Perception of Perfection

Essay by spoonman419 July 2004

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Maybe it was the imperfection of the night.

Maybe the sourness of breath.

The sweet placid night

Serene after the soiled stares.


Tenderness swells through my veins.

Light unspoken touch,

Fingers trickling through my skin.

Without anxiety for a reason,

This just is.

We just are.

Ultimate comfort in a question-less moment.

The cold imperfect night

Warms my heart.

Inexplicable night.

To explain would be to rush.

Sense is made

Through the dark eyes

And sweet lips

Of imperfection.

On this night,

Calendars do not wait with watchful eyes,

Encouraging movement.

They cannot control moment into minute.

The past is an illusion.

God, why degrade us of perfection?

For its thoughts lie within my heart

Its breath lay upon my skin

Its sound lay within my ears.

Though my eyes may close, though my eyes may open

The same sight remains equal

Manifested thoughts only prove true.

To those who see imperfection in this;

Only have imperfect eyes.

Perfection is possible.

Perfection is you.