Perfect Imperfection Poem by Kumar Sen

Before you, love was architecture—stone,
Cathedrals stiff with well-rehearsed desire;
Then you arrived, and every careful throne
Collapsed into a wild, ascending fire.
You do not enter rooms—you alter air;
The dust rethinks its lifelong loyalty.
My shadow, faithless thing, deserts me there
To kneel inside your bright anomaly.

Now arches bend where buttresses once stood,
And gargoyles grin in your unmaking light;
The spire, once proud, dissolves into the wood
Of pyres that leap through this unyielding night—

If this is ruin, let the ruin start—
You are the flaw that perfects every part.