Broken Perfection

A porcelain angel
set atop the Christmas tree.
I was sent here to be perfect;
a priceless emblem passed down for centuries.

A China doll all dressed in white;
a child's playmate.
I was sent here to be a toy of the world;
aways matching their belief of "right".

A fragile vase
made of shimmering clay.
I was sent to be a beautiful decoration,
a priceless artifact, a perfect display.

I was sent here with knowledge too;
knowing how way leads on to way
and what the ways of the world could do,
but I couldn't let that get to me.

The porcelain angel I knew would crack
under the pressures of society.
But the emblem would still be there
shining for all the world to see.

The China doll would soon be forgotten,
left behind in a child's box.
But the child soon becomes an adult
and can use the memories as building blocks.

The fragile vase will be cracked and broken,
and some shattered things cannot be mended.
But it has still its historic beauty,
so truly the perfection has never ended.

An angel, a doll, or even a vase,
or whatever it is that I may be;
I was sent here with knowledge
of beauty, perfection.
And that is forever what I will be:
I will be cracked and broken and long ago forgotten,
but I will forever be flawless.

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