Imperfect to be Perfect



A poem by Naheed Akhtar

Perfection roars in its directness
Too generous it is for its own sake
It neither bothers nor exercises empathy
Driving one and all within manipulation

Perfection didn’t alone build Rome
It was one among the factors that were borne
Of discovery, of desire, of elements (of all sorts)
Creating disturbances to form the changes

The cycle of existence continues to remain
Not with perfection but the nature stubborn
Followed in the forces centrifugal and centripetal
Opposing each other for their service to be performed

Conventional and unconventional lusts
Ripple in the expansion of the universe
To melt the concrete in the abstract
To shape the chaos formless

My imperfections, precisely, make me whole
My unconventional longing fills up the soul
In the frames of the conventional ordeals
Having a single reason to be submitted
Searching life in its palpable beauty
Among the reasons million to obey the hypocrisy

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