How can we make the journey

  when we don’t know where we are starting?

They see this world as perfect

  I see its cracks.

No glue erases greed

No flame fixes the flaw

No politics heals the pain

No welfare shelters the weak

Is it the soul’s yearning for Paradise

  that causes us to look for it here?

In looking for perfection

  are we giving up on what leads us to it?

Is the world so binary,

  that we expect all or nothing?

Can perfection be found then,

  in the process towards a higher truth?

Scabs are ugly and deformed for a time,

  but within them is healing.

Should we pick at them,

  leaving only scars?

They see a flawed man in a perfect world,

  I see a perfect Messenger sent to a flawed world.