In reality perfection is a myth,

    but perfection is what I want.

A world where suffering is no more,

    and a universe where everthing has its purpose.

I want to be able to sit under a forever green tree

    within an eternally blooming meadow.

The air would carry the subtle scent of the blooming flowers

    and pollution would be no where to be found.

At the edge of the Forever Meadow would lie a lake,

    its surface as blue as a sapphire and as perfect as glass.

In this perfect world no one would feel unwanted;

    no one would think of themselves as useless.

Everyone would love and be loved,

    and prejudice and baseless hate would be no more.

Lives wouldn't be wasted on useless fights,

    and everyone would live to their full potential.

But then I begin to think.

    What is life without the risks?

      Without failure we cannot learn,

        and without suffering happiness cannot be known.

          Without death life has no meaning.

So though this world must change before it destructs

    there is no place I would rather be,

        than this world with all its perfect imperfactions.