Natural Perfection

[Nestharus]

Upon my musings of perfection and imperfection, I happened upon something quite interesting. It was glistening in the riverbed, something small, seemingly fragile as a dream, giving an impression as though it would vanish if I touched it, much like smoke vanishes in the ever expansive air.

Perfection, imperfection, words that signify the ideal or chipped frame concerning an idea. I pondered further, wading into that ever flowing river, trying to grasp at that clear gem. Ah, it is impossible for any natural thing to be imperfect, for being imperfect would require that thing be something other than what it is. How can one achieve such imperfection when their very thoughts lead them down their own path of being.

The crystal was at last in the palm of my hand, glistening, reflecting its scintillating colors into my eyes. Was I then perfect? Was everything I knew and everything I thought perfect? Perhaps, it is only in our own tasks or ideals that imperfection becomes a possibility, for in those cases the model present is something other than ourselves.

I felt almost as thought I was disillusioned, having convinced myself, with pure logic, that I, and everything I knew, was perfect, and could be nothing other than true perfection, but I knew the wiser, understanding that what I had now held in my hands appeared to be the truest form of the world, something clear and ever changing, reflecting whatever peered into it.

 

[shamanyouranus]

 

[Pyramidhe@d]

 

[Tyranid]

 

[Mr. Bob]

 

[Zpider]

- I stick to platonism though.

 

[MySpaceBarBroke]

So...was this thread made to prompt some kind of discussion, or share the most abstract epiphany the internet has ever seen?

 

[Chizume]

Maybe you should have put this here and you might've gotten a slightly different response.

Well written though.

 

[SanKakU]

...some random poetry meets a response of a wall of ugly pictures.