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.
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