“Into a soul absolutely free from thoughts and emotion, even the tiger finds no room to insert its fierce claws.”
You can interpret this as you like.
Today, I will take it like this…
You could be perfect; a flower, a petal, a sunrise – everything in its allocated position, like soldiers lined-up for report. Sound-off, one, two. Every dimension, angle, line, is square, every fringe precise. Nothing asunder.
And from this exactness, this geometric simplicity, arises, what?
A standardised pattern of yesterday; the same tomorrow and again, and more so.
It is the imperfection that creates the beauty,
That stimulates growth and novelty.
My curse is my blessing; my impairment my essence.
Though I walk through the placid territories, it is the verisimilitude of turbulence that makes me and makes me over again.
Until I rest and regain my strength and aspire to something better.