Post by TKei on Apr 29, 2012 22:37:40 GMT -5
Means of expression vary.
Some make songs.
Some paint pictures.
Some write poems.
A common theme among them
Is that of perfect love.
But should the imperfect works of man
Describe the one they claim to love?
No song would be enough.
No perfect words,
No perfect beat,
No perfect melody,
Would ever be perfect enough.
For perfection is limited to itself.
But you are not limited to perfection.
No man can make a sound
That would ever compare to you
No picture would be enough.
No perfect colors,
No perfect angle,
No perfect stroke,
Would ever be perfect enough.
The artist strokes his brush.
And the canvas fills with color.
Never can that picture
Compare to infinite beauty
No poem would be enough.
No perfect rhyme,
No perfect rhythm,
No perfect ballad,
Would ever be perfect enough.
Perfection does exist,
And yes, it is rare.
Even the best can be better
But to you could not compare
Perfection itself has but one single flaw:
It isn't you.
Some make songs.
Some paint pictures.
Some write poems.
A common theme among them
Is that of perfect love.
But should the imperfect works of man
Describe the one they claim to love?
No song would be enough.
No perfect words,
No perfect beat,
No perfect melody,
Would ever be perfect enough.
For perfection is limited to itself.
But you are not limited to perfection.
No man can make a sound
That would ever compare to you
No picture would be enough.
No perfect colors,
No perfect angle,
No perfect stroke,
Would ever be perfect enough.
The artist strokes his brush.
And the canvas fills with color.
Never can that picture
Compare to infinite beauty
No poem would be enough.
No perfect rhyme,
No perfect rhythm,
No perfect ballad,
Would ever be perfect enough.
Perfection does exist,
And yes, it is rare.
Even the best can be better
But to you could not compare
Perfection itself has but one single flaw:
It isn't you.