Perfect Imperfection

I am that which all men
would have, would be until,
in being, the whole is revealed -
a collection of imperfections
numbering more than all
the stars in the heavens.

And I am that which all women
would have, would be until,
in having, the whole is revealed -
a thousand thousands of pitted,
cracked, edges; cutting
and unkind to the loving
hand.

I am all things, and I am
nothing; I am you and you
are I; and we are nothing
more, or less, than Human;
beings perfect not
in perfection, but our Perfect
Imperfection.

_{(A friend :: Apr 13, 2011 @ 07:32)}