like a puzzle that has been built before
then put away - that is what is my life
- every dream a foretelling, every face
a different edge and what i cannot fathom
is why i want to continue flipping parts over - it is no
easy task, monumental most times in need of God's hands - because even
though my dreams provide a trace, the slice
is bent a bit too much, forced into corners
never meant - i often wonder if i am an
edge in your life or just one of those pieces
easily confused with the thousands that merge
into a sky - or perhaps i am winged, easily snapped
perhaps i am the last piece needed - for me
to know i need to continue to turn as i reason why
