In the mirror of aspirations, we stand,
Seeking a flawless reflection,
Each detail meticulously planned,
Bound by the chains of perfection.
The clock ticks with relentless demand,
Days consumed in pursuit of ideal,
Yet the horizon always expands,
As dreams slip through fingers surreal.
Shadows stretch with the setting sun,
Whispering doubts in the quiet night,
Perfection’s race is never won,
In its grasp, we lose our sight.
Embrace the beauty of imperfection,
In the flaws, let freedom arise,
For lifeâs true art lies in reflection,
In the journey, not the prize.