Sometimes Mosaic

Sometimes we need to rip off the wrapping to see inside.
Sometimes we need a breakdown before a breakthrough -
The darkness of womb before the light of birth,
Reborn.

If only every tear down preceded a rebuilding
but sometimes, nothing is put back together.
Sometimes, the egg shells still lie scattered from the fall.
Less a rebirth, than a shifting of sands -
blown distant
singed by sun
dry solitude.

A breakdown, tearing off the pretty paper
that held the gift together,
exposing the reality and rawness of solitary self.
Reminding of mortality, fragility... grace.

Sometimes, we can patch and repaper
Sometimes, cover, take-back, lick and stick
torn tissue
back to form...
No longer a strong solid support
but a mature, majestic, pieced together
mosaic.

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