Sutures

Does it all add up?

The past,

the present,

the future?

Does it make sense?

A puzzle

becoming a picture.

Is it a matrix?

Words stitched into

some foreign and disparate language?

Is it isolated?

A fluke,

seen one time in a billion.

 

Trying to pull it all together,

but there are things

I cannot reconcile.

Frayed edges

that will not take to mending,

and broken pieces

I don’t remember the purpose of.

I’ve taken time,

but not with any caution.

Cast my questions at the sky

and buried my curses.

Assembling a life

from all this madness,

is such a strange equation.

 

HG – 2019

 

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