nothing inside...(p.42)
“The greatest illusion,’ said the mole, ‘is that life should be perfect.”
-Charlie Mackesy, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse
I catch myself finding faults,
the corner with webs,
the glass with spots.
Why can't I see beyond the stain?
The home comforts,
The drink nourishes,
yet my thoughts are not content.
What is this search?
Ahh…PERFECTION.
Outwardly, it appears worthy,
yet it traps.
The definition is even elusive.
Mine is not yours; yours is not mine,
yet we seek the same word?
Who penned these rules?
My very hand.
This list, written long ago, and many not my own,
I worship.
This grandiose word veils its face.
Its hidden ambition quietly waits.
PERFECTION is selfish.
Wishes are buried
and will never know of air
for the bar is set too high, and the pole too short
for one to possibly clear.
PERFECTION is an excuse.
Its measure of supposed greatness
hides in a red hooded cape
hoping to mask its fears.
PERFECTION…
a beautifully wrapped gift
with nothing inside. ❤️
