In nature's workshop, perfection lurks

In twisted branches, in broken wings

In snowflakes scarred by winter's breath

In diamonds born from earth's mistakes

To stand apart is to be flawed—

Like roses blooming black in June,

Like pearls that grow misshapen, yet

Command more gold than perfect spheres

Fear not your edges, rough and raw

Your shadows deeper than the rest

The mundane march in measured steps

While greatness limps on wounded feet

True beauty dwells in chaos' heart

Where symmetry dares not intrude

Like lightning's path through summer storms

Unrepeatable, untamed, alive

What gods call flawed, we mortals prize

Our masterpieces born from breaks

In nature's laws, in reason's rules

In patterns meant to hold us back

To seek perfection is to hunt

The very flaws we try to flee

For in their depths lie scattered seeds

Of something far more rare than right