Temple

My body is a temple.
The pinnacle of my most perfect self.
The Theory of Forms suggests somewhere, in any universe, I am perfection at its most.
This is that universe.
I am perfection.
I am the perfect pieces of a broken mirror.
The perfect ideal of puzzles that don't fit.
My skin holds the perfect parallel lines of desire.
Desire to feel, to feel perfect.
Temples are erected o be viewed, a mere spectacle of perfect ideas and reasoning.
I am a temple to the eyes of man.
Men want perfection in all forms, but not the mind.
Plato believed the minds must connect to reach perfect love.
In this universe I am perfect, but I have found perfect versions of everything, including love, cannot coexist in one universe.
What do others see when they look at themselves?
Do they see perfection?
Or is perfection a biased and individualized idea?
What if my perfection is not yours? And vise versa.
Do parallel lines appeal to the body as they do on paper?
Do intelligent deities appeal to the human mind as the intelligence of a perfect girl?
My perfection lies in my flaws.
My crooked smile is perfect.
My curly untamed hair is perfect.
My caramel colored skin is perfect.
Do you think the same?
Or are you in the universe where perfections cannot coexist, and you are this universe's only perfection.
That's up to you to decide.
Perfection can't be left to be decided by gods, philosophers, or even scientists.
Perfection is a human attraction.
We strive to reach our most possible perfections.
But perfection can be tainted.
Moles in the skin, freckles in cheeks, stutters in speech.
Small flaws we see as taints in our perfect view of ourselves.
But has anyone thought that maybe, just maybe, Plato's theory was meant to be applied to self improve.
He knew we could never reach perfection, yet we strive for it.
The perfect hair, outfit, strength, love.
Human kind has an innate desire for perfection.
But we have already obtained it.
All you have to do is look in the mirror, and see, those 'flaws' are at their most perfect.
Flaws considered to be flaws by everyone, including you, means it is perfect.
Mutual agreements dictate facts.
You are perfect, as am I.
Our bodies are temples.
But the temples most loved and appreciated, are those that have gone through time, and acquired small flaws, that we see as historical perfections of beauty and knowledge.
We are temples.
In the Theory of Forms, we are already our most perfect self.
At least, that's what I want to believe.