Wabi-Sabi

In the early light of morning's glow,

When whispers of yesterday still flow,

Where the music of birds echoes loud,

To live simply – that day I vowed.

The moon, with scars that softly gleam,

Each crater is a poet's dream,

Speaks tales of time in silver hue,

Imperfections shining through.

A chipped teacup on the window sill,

Holds memories, many hearts it fills,

Its glaze worn out by years of care,

Yet gives warmth beyond compare.

As the golden rays gently caress,

All worries fade, all stresses suppress.

In each sip of tea, a moment divine,

Simple pleasures, in minimalism, shine.

The rusted bells at the temple's gate,

With tarnished tones they resonate,

Such a soulful sound,

A sacred peace that’s seldom found.

The worn-out steps of our courtyard old,

Each crack, each line, a story told,

They bear footprints of a thousand days,

Upholds us in humble ways.

In a dusty cover, I found a friend

Whose secrets and mysteries never end,

An old book, with its pages worn,

Holds the magic of ages born.

In Grandma’s sarees, shredded at the hem,

There lies a beauty, rare like gem,

Where threads of gold have come undone,

A testament to family-battles won.

The laughter lines on her face,

In each deep crease, a touch of grace,

Soft wrinkles of a life well-spent,

A journey in perfect imperfection, it went.

So let us find in every flaw,

A tiny hope, to see scars with awe,

With each blemish, truths unfold

Cherish imperfections, for therein lies gold.