Human life is
neither like a perfect dream
nor it is a flawless creation of God
If there is something
which breathes on this land,
It has indeed its own flaws
Mistakes are not something
to be ashamed of
Infact, it is a part of our soul
But, humans have invented
the such a concept of perfection
That it doesn’t allow
the alignment of our walls
with the cracks and crevices
of the windows and doors.
The fictional fallacy of perfection
has enveloped our minds
and, has convinced us that
accepting our flaws and mistakes
Belittle our might.
And, so, here we are;
The most perfect creation of God
who spend eternity
to prove that, they are always right
Standing at the balustrade
of our roof
fidgeting the coffee cup
between our fingers
and, inhaling the bitter taste
into our throat, a few times
We are overwhelmed
with a feeling of guilt and uneasiness
Thinking about those mistakes
That we consider as grievous crimes.
Searching for the absolutely
polished surface of diamond
We have even lost the ability
to see the beauty hidden
behind the irregular shapes
And, it has somehow reconstructed
the bridge of expectations in our landscape.
But, the essence of life
actually lies inside those imperfections
Between the discordant chords of music
Haphazardly arranged verses of poetry
And, rays of sunlight passing through
the chinks of our windows.
