Perhaps a bit melancholy, but then again, it is Thursday.
The Imperfection of the Stars
I wished to be a beautiful creature
but found I was covered in scars.
But the sky, it pulled me aside and said
my dear, have you seen the stars?
They burn and crack and shoot off rage –
not so different from those lines
you seem to think a falsehood make –
my dear, do you know what lies
are really there? Smooth, flawless skin
is not a truth hood here.
My dear, the beauty of life you see
is in this thing called tragedy
and we are all but beautiful disasters
and intertwined to chaos make.
This world was not created by perfection –
no, all this was created by a snake.
And so we are not doomed but dared
to show our roughness and our edge,
those imperfections that now define
what is our beauty in every line
and every wrinkle and every crease –
we live because our imperfections never cease
and deviation does not evil mean,
so go ahead, my dear. Please show your seams.
Quill Aquiver 