[Another contribution from JW: both art and poem.]
The perfect ideal.
A pristine face.
An impeccable body.
Say it isn’t so.
How remarkably inhuman.
Nothing of substance to glory in.
So unlike the human condition.
Doubtless, the romantic strives to
articulate the perfect ideal.
And let us not forget the artistic
vast and varied are these
attempts to portray it.
Yet could it ever be?
Point of fact:
Flawless beauty is an oxymoron.
Then, pray tell, who are the “beautiful
people” we hear so much about?
The creators and perpetrators of the
Or equally disillusioned?
What manner of person willfully
elevates themselves above others
merely by appearance?
Who is the actual court jester?
The person looked down upon,
or the one doing the looking?
After all, flaws in character are
equally, if not more, detrimental
than flaws in appearance.