The human soul, distant from the horrifying divinity of perfection
Takes upon its troubled mind the deed and tries to drown in retrospection
Retrospection of the conscience, they don’t choose
But retrospection of all illusions of vain

Rethinking only the person they showcase
Presenting perfection only in their wealth and mortal beauty of their hidden face
To let the rest, know that their new vehicles and caves are the highest symbols of their false grace

And others immerse in terror and take perfection
In nowhere but in their textbook lessons
And if they faintest figure of ‘not-your-best’ they caught sight

They believe that they’re no longer worth Earth’s warm light

There’s no requirement to live as a machine
If it were then they’re would exist no dreams
Which ooze slowly into the air of reality

For an overdosage of perfection
Might lead to your growth’s abduction

But find your right strive
To be better in conscience and work
Not too less that in arrogance we lurk
But just enough to live and sustain
With the peaceful cadence of drizzling rain.

Excerpt from “The See-Saw Souls” by
Kaanthal Manikandan

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