A perfect you means I must love machine

No one, nor thou, me love, be free from flaws, A flaw endears, me think, and seldom irks, It sounds strange, but a flaw dimple once was, Men come alive with foibles, whims and quirks. A mortal and faultless still? Holy Grail, A perfect head and heart in faultless flesh, Is not it too much of an obscure tale? Perfection a long journey is, no dash. If a thing of art has to be alive, Forget the fault of faultless offering, Whence ye think a ray of light would arrive If there's no crack nor yet an opening? I love you dear nigh just as ye have been, A perfect you means I must love machine. _______________________________________ Sonnet | 07.08.2018 | beauty, perfection Poet’s note: Imagine a couple in conjugal bed and discussing. The lady seems too keen to have a word from her husband describing her as one with no flaw. The man tries to bring home the point that a thing of beauty is always alive like Nature, and yet cannot be perfect like say a machine-made art. Nature is beautiful despite its subtle imperfections.