What is perfect?
If you take the violin solo
Is it every note played in tune?
Is it every rhythm executed to the second?
Is it that the vibrato was just the right speed?
Or is it that the song began, swelled, climaxed and concluded?
The song was finished and completed, its story told
Every correct note, every correct rhythm, made it whole
And every mistake, every missed note, made it human
If you take a rainbow after heavy rain
Is it the perfect curvature, a clear half-circle?
Is it the careful slices of color, not bleeding into one another?
Is it a reflection so strong that you can see two?
Or is it the miracle of the sun after the clouds?
Is it the peaceful conclusion of perhaps a vicious and threatening storm?
Every drop of water reflecting an infinite ray of light
Standing in adamant resolution of the world cleansing itself
If you take a project, made meticulously by hand
Is it that everything fits together seamlessly with no holes?
Is it that there are no ragged edges or uneven sides?
Or is every detail so stressed over, that it doesn’t look handmade?
Or is it that warm, human hands breathed life into this piece?
The hands twisted, worked and carefully constructed it
Only the maker knows the little flaws and mistakes
But it came from the soul and it is finished, therefore it is perfect