Perfection is a limitless pursuit
That does the mortal self wholly ensnare
It is temptation of forbidden fruit
That leads to one path only; to despair.
For though I was as perfect child born,
With language I do fall in sophistry;
With sentiment I hurt, or wound, or scorn,
With blinded eyes I cannot rightly see.
For fragile life cannot achieve perfection
Try as I might to transcend mortal flaws:
A faultless life is life without affection
For love alone does break precision’s laws.
The paragons of virtue are the souls
Who by their love of flaws are rendered whole
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