The Wabi-Sabi Commune

Cracked teapots hold galaxies
in their broken places,
golden kintsugi veins mapping
paths to revolution through repair

Between crumbling concrete walls
wildflowers push through,
defiant beauty claiming space
where order once declared dominion

We gather in the forgotten gardens
where weeds write manifestos in green,
our bare feet learning the language
of soil and stone

No leaders here but the wind
No laws but the turning of seasons
No perfect symmetry
but the sacred geometry of decay

In the composting of old systems
we find fertile ground
Our commune grows like moss
in the spaces power overlooked

Impermanent as morning dew
Stronger than steel and glass
We build our freedom
from beautiful broken things

Let the paint peel
Let the edges blur
Let us be incomplete together
Finding wholeness in the cracks

This is how we live:
Gentle anarchists
Tending to imperfection
Like a garden of infinite possibility