When shattering becomes
a thing of broken beauty,
it is the very breaking
and brokenness
that reveals the heart,
the structure, the lovely lines,
the labyrinth of meaning
that once was whole and now
is visible.
Nature wastes nothing.
Having unlearned this lesson,
people fumble with fragments
of the lost and leftover,
rags woven into
a kind of throne.
Rosefire Rising 