Perfection Poem by Shruti Goswami

I look around, and all I see,
People losing their character, like they lose religion,
Find it proud to flaunt weaknesses, and scorn strength in others,
The same strength that they are afraid to gain,
Knowing, but not acknowledging that it leads them to
Destruction and oblivion.

Staying among them, I feel ashamed,
Ashamed of my own high standards, morality and ethics,
And wonder where I went wrong?
When having high standards, is treated with scorn,
Where bad habit and weakness becomes the norm,
For some who fear to attain those heights,
And pass off imperfections with the impunity,
Reserved for kings and dictators.

What hurts so much, is the advice,
That I should try to look for one, the perfect one,
When I know that there is none.

But even that does not hurt, for I am not perfect.
What hurts even more, is the wretched thought that,
While I strive to achieve newer standards,
Higher than before, the only way for self refinement;
It’s looked down upon, as something that is done by those,
Who find weaknesses to be beyond them.

Should I laud them? When it is to be despised?
Are virtues now damnable, and the victory of the vice?

Yes, it is indeed beyond me, beneath me,
To fall from the place I achieved,
I know to speak and carry myself,
Without stooping in taste beneath.

For what is education then, if myself I cannot help,
And how would I even look at me,
In the mirror of conscious self?

To rise is life, to fall decay,
And I will rise, now come what may,
And sure as day, you too shall rise,
I will ensure that beam of ray.
I hope one day, like the good old times,
Weaknesses will fail; and strength would stay.