Perfection

There is no such a thing as perfection

So it has been said.

To glisten under sunlit rays,

Sparkling and beauteous at every moment,

Flowing gradually onwards

Accompanied by the coaxing cry of the crow.

But flow into deathly, decaying darkness,

Staining the crystal character

For the use of… If only I knew

Why we change our direction from right to wrong.

You do not belong in this deathly darkness.

Escape from these shadows.

There is no such a thing as perfection

So it has been said.

This was one of the first poems I wrote

and I have used a number of lines

from this poem as reference in future work.