Perfection

Posted on June 2, 2015 by The Course of Our Seasons

I don’t believe
in perfection-
the tiniest petal
still retains a flaw-
a fissure,
a blemish,
the tracks of sun and rain.
Its heart
longing for completeness,
a closure,
a fullness
of perfect simplicity.

The meadow in late spring
filled with bright white daisies,
lavender sweet peas
pale pink honeysuckle-
a confluence of imperfect
perfection.

7 thoughts on “Perfection”

Jnana Hodson on June 18, 2015 at 8:58 am said:

Wonderful perspective. Maybe we need a verb action, too — a matter of perfecting, rather than being static.

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Björn Rudberg (brudberg) on June 8, 2015 at 6:09 am said:

Like Japanese ceramics .. the beauty lies in the flaws.

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lynn__ on June 3, 2015 at 10:05 pm said:

Your poem is perfectly wonder-full!

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Sherry Blue Sky on June 3, 2015 at 12:21 pm said:

I love the idea of a confluence of imperfect perfection. That would be a meadow full of wildflowers for sure!

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englishdelicacy on June 3, 2015 at 1:42 am said:

“a confluence of imperfect
perfection”
Love it.

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MarinaSofia on June 3, 2015 at 1:10 am said:

Imperfection and randomness are so much more interesting than perfection and symmetry.
The lines of the poem with their ragged endings also seem to echo your words…

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Grace on June 2, 2015 at 8:39 pm said:

Even with the flaws, nature is imperfectly perfect ~

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