Mosaic

I swept up the shattered
Pieces and started to throw them
Up in the air with fucking
Euphoria but realized trash doesn’t fly
So I collapsed inside, blackholed
But then puddled there in misery
I finally saw the truth spreading out
Around me like sand in the desert
Each jagged, broken piece
Was unique and glittering
In the dawn of possibility
And so raining iridescent grains
Of heart, of art
I began to assemble a mosaic
A mandala, a new way
Forward, the past reassembled
In the wholly new face of the future
Mapping eternity.

[c2016 thomas fortenberry]

This entry was posted in Poetry, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.