An inch.
No more, but an inch, nonetheless.
A puff of air breezes upon his face.
Taking him by surprise.
Not expecting anything, anymore.
His eyes widen in layered expectancy.
This was not supposed to happen.
It messes up the plan.
But one inch changes everything, now.
Sure, it is invisible to others.
It is broken now.
Not worthy of use.
It must be replaced.
Something is now missing.
So, without further thought,
we cast it aside.
It has no life of its on.
And, that probably is a good thing.
To realize you are broken,
that you are lacking in use to others,
well, that load is rather heavy to bear.
You see, we are looking for that inch.
The inch provides hope.
Hope that we can still breathe.
Taking in a puff of life to examine ourselves.
Staring within.
Invisible.
Because through the broken lens,
the fragments form our faith.
We need that inch.
To live another day.