The Perfect Sky

The Perfect Sky

There is no such thing as a perfect man,

No flawless woman carved from certainty,

We carry cracks beneath our names and smiles,

And learn to live inside them every day.

Hands tremble when they reach for something true,

Hearts bruise where love once promised too much,

Words fall short, intentions fray and bend,

We fail each other more than we admit.

Mirrors never tell the whole hard truth,

They soften faults or sharpen every scar,

We chase an image we can never hold,

And punish ourselves for being real.

Love is not neat, it stumbles as it grows,

It argues, forgives, then breaks again,

No vow can keep a human perfectly whole,

We are made of trying, not of certainty.

Yet lift your eyes beyond our fragile forms,

Beyond the noise of what we should have been,

There hangs a promise that does not pretend,

A silence wide enough to breathe us in.

The sky asks nothing of our broken parts,

It does not judge the weight we fail to carry,

It stretches blue above our restless lives,

Unchanged by every mistake below.

Storms pass through it without leaving a mark,

Stars burn and fade, the sky remains,

It holds our grief, our hope, our quiet prayers,

And never tells us we are not enough.

So let the world be imperfect and human,

Let love arrive with flaws still showing,

There is no perfect man or woman here,

There is however the perfect sky.