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What is it about perfection that drives man to its knees. Perfection can only be defined by the flawless; an infinite stream of pure pristine radiance only to be surpassed by that which created it. It is no cycle, but rather a distant fantasy, like how kids once dreamed of flying. It cannot be done, but it can be perceived. It can be seen, seen as vividly as we would like it to be.
Perfection is also the eradication of what isn’t perfect, like a metaphorical genocide that wages in the confines of our thoughts. With this quest for perfection, we find ourselves lost in the crossroads of our journey, always conflicted on what could seem to be the reality we would like to exist in.
Because we see fault in all things. Nothing is never as beautiful as we want it to be. Nothing can never be so immaculate that we would never change a thing about it. It’s what sets the human race apart from the animals; our drive to improve. To evolve beyond the boundaries set by nature. An evolution of ideas. A revolution that changes the species entirely.
We wake up each morning only to find ourselves dazed in the current. Am I really here? Is this where I am? How long do I have to remain stagnant to the chaos that perplexes humanity itself? But so often we ask ourselves.
Am I the only one who sees it?
Only the fool would answer such a question. Rhetorical. Irrelevant. Pointless.
What do we see? We are observers, like God himself in the heavens looking down on his subjects. But in this case we are subjects as well. We watch ourselves and everyone around us. What we do with these observations more often than not remain a secret we keep to ourselves and only ourselves.
Should the time arrive these secrets will be revealed. After all, everything must come to an end, even our silence. It shall be broken, and if necessary, by force.
Thoughts are humanity’s Excalibur, the champion of our existence. But to who so ever wields these thoughts will carry a heavy cross on his back. These thoughts shall be what makes you, and it shall be what will destroy you.
But to those who choose to burn this cross, or put it back where it belongs you shall be burned alive right where you stand. To take it off will be to remove what makes you what you are. It is an essential factor of one’s composition.
It is only through this where man overcomes perfection. Yes. Perfection on its own is flawed. Therefore man only aims to become even more so a flawed people. And that is perfectly fine.
Because it is only when man chooses to accept his weakness will the naked eye become powerful enough to perceive that which remains invisible.
