Nothing is perfect, because every person's definition of what constitutes that perfection will be quite different. Perfect things or events cannot last, as there is an ephemeral quality to perfection. If something is perfect, can you ever have it or experience it again? Doesn't the act of possessing or sensing perfection taint it just a little? A perfect statue or sunset just asks to be improved. If David is perfect, then what is the Pieta? If today's purple, orange sunset with golden rays about the horizontal clouds is perfect, can tomorrow's be better? We are used to declaring things so, and we change our minds with abandon. Perhaps every moment is perfect in it's own way, every broken pottery shard, faded flower, old dog and baby's face is perfect in its own time, its own way and we must stop comparing everything to an impossible standard. Or perhaps there is no such thing as perfection and we should just appreciate life and the ability to enjoy it as much and as often as we can.
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