A picture seen at a time past gone,
Clear as a drop at the end of a leaf,
Shatters in a moment under murky tar,
Lost to the eyes burdened with grief.
Swept aside to corners ever so dark,
Pieces afloat atop forgotten sands,
Sleep well dear my shattered love,
There will come time for nourishing hands.
The seer opens one eye and then the next,
Something lies somewhere in corners asleep,
A picture once seen as crystal bright,
Is forgotten and buried under the dark and deep.
The shattered picked up with trembling hands,
The worry that it is all too late,
Trying to conjure the picture once seen,
Fitting jigsaw pieces with edges so straight.
How does the seer bring it back together?
How does it all make sense again?
Struggling with pieces lost in space,
The picture left with a permanent stain.
A hand reaches out from the depths unseen,
Bringing the pieces together with a surety felt,
Rest now dear one, you are not alone,
Hold onto the hand that you have been dealt.
The picture unclear comes together slow,
Yet unknown lies the ending to fill,
Strive on, dear one, strive on and on,
And a new picture emerges on the horizon still.
For when it seems all too hard put it back together again.