Wabi Sabi and Flow

Imperfection becomes, the beautiful face of impermanence. One dying flower, enlightens a whole field of blooms. Change gives meaning, to all that is born to flow. The river does not ask which way? The rocky riverbank crumbles, because the water declares the unreality of all resistance. In an imperfect world, perfection is a form of death, while death is beyond form, and so, a chip or crack in a clay pot, acknowledges, that there is no flaw in itself, but only in the perceiver who does not naturally flow with what is.