When Muslims of old would build their grandest mosques
And decorate the walls with intricate designs,
Into their calligraphies, geometries, their arabesques
Their artisans would introduce a flaw:
It was a custom strong as any law.
Perfection is dangerous, they knew,
Inviting God’s jealousy, causing Him to stew.
Better an imperfect masterpiece
Than one to flaunt its maker’s hubris.
The world’s impure, flawlessness a dream.
We reach for the ideal as we navigate Life’s stream,
But we can ne’er attain it, and that is meet and right,
For those whose excellence burns with golden light
Are soon brought low.
Perfection is dangerous, we know.
I knew a creature once, enrobed in white,
Whose presence brought such gladness to my sight
As though to break my heart.
And break my heart he did,
For he was called, untimely, ’cross the Bridge
That all must cross in time.
He was a flame that burned so bright, so hot,
That he could not burn long. Now, he is not.
His sin? It might have been perfection,
But his Creator had introduced a flaw:
It was a custom, strong as any law.
Perfection is dangerous, for what it’s worth,
And God does not permit it to linger long on Earth.
dedicated to our beloved Levon...