Programmed

The design is inherently flawed. But
then perhaps deliberately so engineered
and inherited through countless generations
of human existence, flaws that no one is
immune to representing as they do within 
the overall grand design merely another
element in an elegant network of mechanics
translated through a skeletal armature
of precise method incorporating muscle
tissue, blood, sinew and bone atop which 
sits a brain, the control panel for the 
appendages and all that comprise the human 
and its mind, echoing the being of a soul 
entrapped in a living shroud whose entirety 
is clearly hugely unsatisfactory, for do not 
we all criticize and find fault with our fleshly 
trappings? We are to a one and in the aggregate
self-absorbed yet assailed with doubt, curious 
and envious of all that we are not and do not 
possess. The mirror we are most apt to gaze 
upon reflects back to us our imagined fount 
of perfection as actors we worship as celebrities 
appear as we do not, live as we cannot, love
as we would like to, yet our yearnings are
never satisfied nor satiated. That those we 
elevate in high esteem on the pedestal of 
celebrity fail in every index of human potential 
to grasp the apex of existence humours us 
not at all, for they too are inexorably infected 
with the very same flaws that disturb our lives
while their performances fail to persuade them
otherwise leading them to envy their audience.