Perfection is too dull. I do not mean
That I pretend that I have ever been
Perfect, unblemished, holy, without sin,
But rather that I'm trying now to wean
Myself off of perfection as ideal.
It's easy to, in raptures, write the praise
Of perfect sunsets, women, moments, days,
But harder to engage with how we feel
In those more common (not to say more real)
Experiences that are not prepared to blaze
Across our senses in perfection. Haze
Imperfect as it is, will often steal
Across a sunset. Let perfection be
To find the good in mediocrity.
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