Orphan

 

The piece we can’t make fit,

because the puzzle

is alive and moving.

Trying to pluck out

a single particle

in a supernova.

 

Falling in and out of love,

passion cuts the skin

and then

scar tissue remains,

a thin veil of disinterest.

 

Come in this world

so small,

so weak and precious.

Here to there,

we become

something strong and senseless.

 

We don’t know

where in this world

our lives will take us.

We are not of this place,

nor of the one that made us.

 

Incomplete.

Something in between,

divinity,

and all that we can see.

The universe,

a quandary,

and we must concede

that we’re not going to fit

easily.

 

Nothing like the feeling,

knowing something’s missing.

Knowing we don’t know

who we are,

or what we’re doing.

It all falls apart,

one moment to the next

and all we have

are random pieces left.

 

The stone that we reject

becomes the one

we build upon.

So hard to create

a world within this one.

 

We don’t fit,

never did,

but you must admit,

we are beautiful

accessories.

 

The world goes on

spinning.

We keep on

trying to find

a place to fit,

some connection,

with anyone,

with anything.

 

 

HG – 2022

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