Journal entry 18 heart heart
Perfection
We move out to an open field were the sky becomes the ceiling of the Sistine chapel.
We stand under it.
Perfection.
And I wonder how it would feel to touch it.
How would it feel to touch something that was done as perfectly as a human can do? Were would you go from there? What would be left to see?
Would you be inspired?
Or would you be depressed in knowing that you could never hope to complete something that came close?
We stand and the darkness retunes.
Then, for just a moment, the sky is made of you and me.
For a human second.
Then gone.
It makes me think that I’d like to love you perfectly.
To give all of myself.
Or at least as best as a human like me can do.
leaking soul Community Member 
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