It’s all here.
every last word.
for some twisted reason it will not speak.
Nothing will come. Something is missing
maybe even wrong but
nothing is unleashed until that last
clue has been found.
Then it has been said that it will all come together.
We will come into the light.
It’s like staring at a sporadic forest puzzle
your mom bought from Kmart just to keep you busy,
and you’ve spent
hours trying to figure out.
Everything so vibrant
yet somehow empty.
The trees can only go so far until the thin cardboard borders
push them back in again.
Sometimes the last piece
is lost in the shuffle;
the constant habitual of our ambiguity.
while the last piece is still lost,
we have some choices to make:
Wait for it to slowly make its way back to us,
or start over.
Break some things apart and mash them together
so the borders can finally seem to fit around something needed
to be constructed.