Pieces

P
They are supposed to fit
These pieces,
Jigsaw pieces from a box
Life fitting in a pattern
A reason for being
A raison d’etre
A purpose, a rationale
A flag to unfurl
The box shows the picture
In so many pieces
But life unlike the box
Obscures the picture
The pattern does not fit
And by the time I’m in a box
Patterns and purposes
Will not be a talking point
If I could get the edges right
I could fill the middle in
But now the edges
Aren’t all right
They’re unraveled
Fragged from too much fraying
Edges, the ragged line
Of expired rationales
I sit and ponder pieces
Pieces that do not fit
Past purposes and flags unfurled
The borders of ragged edges
I sit and ponder
Pasts that don’t fit
Pieces of edges
And flagging purposes

(fragged – made up word of frayed and ragged)

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badgerslabyrinth

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