Perfection
What is perfection? Like infinity, an unreachable limit to which we strive for- yet never truly achieve... what's more, we don't even understand it. We can't. Crafting intricate patterns of glass with the precision our eyes can afford, we will always see ourselves reflected in that creation, and -if perfection truly be what we seek- will dash our own heart and soul against the ground and shatter that imperfect perception according to our own will. What's worse, all those in awe and wonder of it can see the destruction for themselves. Stand there, horrified, "What have you done?" and any who have coerced you or caressed you into fashioning such a beautiful spectacle will bleed as the shards of their own encouragement ricochet and slice into their own flesh. Humanity is such a wonderful disease of imperfection jammed in the cogs of the universe. And yet we all want to ask the question, "Why do we exist? What is our purpose?" Such is the foolh...