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the bonsai tree is lopsided
the potter's glaze on the chado bowls is spiderweb-cracked
the forge line of the katana waves and weaves back and forth like the
         footsteps of a drunkard
the black belt of the budo master is time-worn and frayed

zen says no perfect thing is beautiful
the things that are true are irregular, worn
broken symmetry
like the favorite coat I keep stiching up

my heart, too, is irregular and worn
broken and mended many times

zen says
from outside of time everything
is already broken
and everything is just this moment new

the treasure you would hoard is already stolen and dispersed
but can never be lost
the loved one, the beloved self, is already dead
and yet was never born

and my heart
is already broken
already renewed
already reborn
my wabi-sabi heart
glorious in its flaws and scars
is perfect just as it is

and I have already arrived
on the other shore

--Tom Swiss

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