Perfection

Ambrosia, the drink of Gods. That's perfection. The taste is perfection. But who among us, the mere mortals can rightfully claim to have had it tasted?

The idea is unfathomable, I know. Imagine telling the blind how white the milk is. But perfection exists, in everyone of us. In the deepest hearts of the sincerest men, it shines more radiantly.

What shapes it? What gives it life? Us? That's foolish. The life-giving source, I assume then must be something so vast in greatness, the explanation seems unneccesary. [What did I tell you about about assumption. It is the brother of all f**k-ups - Lock, stock and two smoking barrels]

O! Brownie, where art thou?

Brownie; the little brain cell that was assigned with the job of steering ideas had somehow lost its course, which disrupted the thought process in my head. AND, he is conveniently blaming it on the assumption I made earlier.

You may demand for a title change: A mind teaser. OR maybe a f**k up.

p.s: the author made some changes to the 2nd last paragraph....perfectionist?!?!