Such intrinsic futility as
In the attempts for the
Betterment of society
Lead only to dissatisfied,
And disillusioned multitude –
A multitude without hope.

This is better than that one,
But both do the same job,
A job, as all jobs,
Arisen from the lack
Of perfection of another.

Things get better and better,
But better than what?
None approach perfection.
In an imperfect world
We live as imperfect beings,
And we measure our tolerances
Of imperfections;
Our tolerance of life.

You tolerate a working world.
You tolerate your discomfort.
This part is built to a
Tolerance of plus or minus zero
Point zero zero one percent.

Such as are the measures
Of imperfections,
So what then can be perfect?

How can you measure perfection,
In an imperfect world?