Perfection is He

Where nothing is relative,

You see the flaws inherent.

Since perfection exists,

Its absence is apparent

In varying degrees,

But any separation

Is in some form

An absolute negation.

If perfection is beauty,

Then the closer you reach

Toward the standard

Across the breach,

The greater the emanation

Of undiluted splendor

Illuminates the vile

Unto knowledge and surrender.

And perhaps, per hopes,

You bear a greater reflection,

Of the unattainable,

Unavoidable perfection

That radiates all light,

Encompasses all flame,

Breathes all life,

And speaks your name.