Writing

imperfect

​There is a certain beauty

In an imperfect thing

Evisioned as a perfect map

From an imperfect mind

Some broken state of being

A catastrophic creation

A cup with a chip

A blemished bowl

Some alliterated altercation

Long ago, or closer still

An historic fascination

When this being became complete

Imperfect

When viewed through a perfect lens

Of a perfect idea

Of that which is no longer

By an imperfect mind

And forced to confirm this self

This deluded force

Which sees what isn’t there

And in the absence of perfection

Beauty.

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s