Mystic Rainbows

Rainbows don't seem sentient.
Rainbows aren't born.
Rainbows don't die.
Rainbows can't fly.
Rainbows come, rainbows go.
Rainbows appear, rainbows disappear.
A transience that gives meaning to existence and the existence of others.
Things really aren't what they seem to be,
Or what they are.
There is no pot of gold,
At the end of a rainbow.

Perfection is like that. It's always one step ahead of you. A rainbow will always and only be seen in a distance. Never near. But perfection isn't nonexistent. A rainbow exists and is yet perfect. And that's why you could hate rainbows, because the farthest you see it, is the closest you'll ever get.