Perfection: the highest or most nearly perfect degree of a quality or trait. So what makes us perfect? Is it being the best at what we do? Can one even call himself perfect? I’ve been told countless times, that perfection is unobtainable. It does not and has never existed in this world. That one person or even group can never be perfect, because everyone and everything has its flaw and defect and for that  reason nothing will ever be perfect and we will never reach perfection.

        However, like beauty I believe that perfection is not a solid truth and never has been, but it’s an old idea with a postmodern trait. That being, that each one of us has his or her solid truth. Otherwise known as the eye of the beholder, because each one of us is an individual with his own mind set and his own ideas, so why is it we look to perfection to be a whole truth?  Is it not like beauty? Do we not have our own opinions anymore? The fact of the matter is that perfection is a standard, a standard created by mankind, proving that one has witnessed perfection, with his own eyes, enough to put this idea out, and enough people have agreed that something can be  perfect that each one of us has heard of perfection. If perfection never existed then why do we know what perfection is today? Eugène Delacroix said, “The artist who aims at perfection in everything achieves it in nothing.” because perfection has never been and never will be just a solid truth.

      It is that very reason that no one on earth can tell me otherwise because I’ve seen its eyes, I’ve read its poetry, I’ve heard its voice and lived its day. I pity everyone who has yet to experience perfection because perfection in turn is a mirror image of our absolute happiness. Once you have felt it it’s like you have grasped the unobtainable and becomes so real and something you are unwilling to let go. One day hopefully your mind will let you see that, and you too can be happy along side with me.

Have you ever known someone so beautiful and that you liked so much that they take the words out of your mouth and the only way to express yourself is in a cheesy poem? Well not to long ago, I think only three weeks ago that very same thing happened to me, This girl just took me by suprise and help me finish this poem, her poem, Kims poem:

eyes are just eyes

yet why do yours always take me by suprise?

a nose is but a nose

but why do yours make me speechless

hair is nothing more than hair

how is it compared to others you seem so unfair?

and lips are just lips

yet why cant all i think about is a kiss?

and i if i could tell you all these things

would you stay?

if i could tell you all my thoughts

would i take your breath away?

if i could tell you all these unspoken words

 would you finally realize and see?

that all this time you have always been beautiful to me.

These last couple of weeks I’ve been reading about the oil spill near the Brush Islands, and began realizing of how much we take nature for granted. Not only when accidents that can be prevented aren’t, but in general, of how little we think of nature, how technologically driven we are that we can’t appreciate the beauty and wonder that our trees, flowers and everything that used to be amazing, still is, and so I looked in too what a tree has seen over the years and wrote this:

I’m nothing more than a helpless tree

so why is it you are so willing to hurt me?

My soul purpose is to live and bring beauty                                                                                                                                                  

 yet why won’t you let me free?

I do not harm any of you;                                                                                                                                                                                           

 I bring you sweet oxygen to keep all of you from being blue.

So again I ask what do I do?

And like my father you tear me down to make more space

when there was more room all along all you had to do was move your face.

I hear the chainsaw calls

and I see my brothers fall

and still don’t get what I’ve done

do you enjoy killing beauty, and yourself? Is it all fun?

Why do you take me for granted?

Why do you move me from which I ‘am planted?

and as your sons will never know and you to find out

that soon not a single tree will sprout

and that which you have taken so easily

is that of which you will miss most heavily.

So not too long ago i was faced with a question. The question was what is Beauty? and i began to look all around and think what can be defined as beauty and well after my thoughts got away with me i came up with this poem that is my definition as beauty.

Beauty is pride with no prejudice
and has always been so bliss
it’s now the diagnosis for a new and better social change
and finally waking up in this youthful age

Beauty is being able to go forward when there is no where left to go
Beauty is never having a high or low
it’s loving the life you live
and giving when there is nothing more to give

Beauty is too willing let go of common sense
Beauty is regressing to a child’s ignorance
Its holding on to everything you believe to be true
and imaging the impossible in a sadistic world view

Beauty is dying without fear or regret
But never allowing yourself to ever forget
Beauty is always helping those in conflict
Even if they don’t, or have never deserved it

Beauty is falling knowing someone is there to catch you
Beauty is something we all once knew
Beauty is flying and hoping you go far
But most of all beauty will always be what you are