In the silence of the dawn,
Perfection whispers through the breeze,
A fleeting moment gently drawn,
Where all imperfections cease.
Like a sculptor’s final touch,
On marble shaped with care,
Perfection seems within our clutch,
Yet slips away, so rare.
The stars align in perfect grace,
A cosmic dance, precise and grand,
But in our lives, we chase and chase,
Perfectionâs touch, a fleeting hand.
Embrace the flaws, the cracks, the scars,
For in their depths, true beauty lies,
Perfection’s dance is in the stars,
Yet in our hearts, true joy will rise.