PERFECTION

Tell me, why is it when there's perfection
That I wander around like the aimless.
Like the leaves on the ground when the wind blows,
When the snow flurries lose their direction.
 
Is it 'cause I'm not able to get there  
To the pot at the end of a rainbow,  
Reaching out so my fingers can touch it  
But the image I see, an illusion.  
 
It was alway this way in my young life,  
In my search to find heaven in stardust.  
Till that one day when I find what I want  
When perfection stops trying to catch me.  
 
 
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