Striving for perfection
To meet our own desperate desires.
But what we rarely see
Is our haunting need for those
On the outside to rise above
Our petty standards
And create something better,
Something more
Than what we can imagine.
No obstacles that meet our eye,
Problems that do not exist.
They offer no resistance
To the essence of what is flawless.
At least, none that we can see.
Why do we strain to see
What will remain masked,
Hidden away, cloaked in mystery,
What should be left quietly secret?
To what end will we plot our own
We blunder into the darkest of times,
Blindfolded, sightless,
Stretching out trusting hands
To comfort that cannot be found.
We felt that embrace,
A long time ago,
And we refused.
Rather gamble on assumption
Than admit our faults,
Surrender ourselves to the
Compassion that they are so
Willing to give.
Any mistake that might mar our path
To success, to our destination,
Must be what their idle hands
Have carelessly passed over.
To blame ourselves
Would be eternal shame,
Laughing, a constant reminder
Of an ugly ending
We could have prevented.