An image:
everything precious is shattered.
[is that just the nature of the world? disintegration?
of humanity? desecration?
and then...]
our job is to take the shards, the flecks, the brokenness, and piece it back together
as a mosaic--
as something new
something more true
more unique and real
to who we are
and the nature of it all
(yes, all of it:
even the wounding. the shadow. the grotesque.)
just like the cocoon
disassembles,
dissolves everything
a caterpillar is,
and rearranges it
to have [multicolored] wings.
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