I Have Come to Bury Perfection

Seagrass freshly planted.
A new sand fence.
Lines. Light and dark,
Everything evenly spaced.

Perfectly placed. Eye catching.
At least for a while,
until your eyes glaze
and begin to wander,

looking for the aberrations.
The mistakes, the slightly off-kilter.
Because in the end, it is the imperfections
that create beauty.

About this poem

About art. About beauty. About people. Perfection is highly overrated. It takes time and life to create imperfections. And that is where beauty lies.

The photograph was taken outside Provincetown, MA. A few years ago, Things don’t look so perfect today. I like now more.

Tom