Time went speeding past, a brief thought, a leap.
The grenade found its’ mark. Then time froze. It crept along.
Each fragment had a different path, a different story.
Each piece of the whole would need to be followed, watched, loved.
I am falling pieces.
I am fragmented.
The whole is there, the whole can be found, but not right now.
I panick to super glue the pieces together. I scramble to pick them up, examine them, and replace them.
I looked at the piece that represented my occupation and try to speedily consider it. I looked at the frayed edges. I examine the burns and the scars. I try to decide if it fits in the puzzle anymore. I am looking at one side of the piece. I don’t see the joy. I don’t see the connections. I don’t see the gift. I even resent it as a scattered piece.
I leap to catch the piece of financial security and my ‘stuff’. I over-value its’ importance. I am comfortable with it. It feels safe. It feels weighty. I also see the ugly side. I feel guilty for what I have. I feel deserving and sanctimonious. I see that to have it, I made an agreement to have to earn it, to pay for it. The resentment of feeling trapped by my occupation is only self directed.
I consider the castles I have built, the treasures I store up.
I see friendships.
I see family.
I see possessions.
I see myself.
I see who I think I am. I see who I think I am becoming. I see hurt and dissapointment. I see insecurity. I see lies. I see the black ooze of time and love wasted. I see the dissonance of dreams unrealized and surrendered. I see the desire to grow. I see the direction of life abundant. I see loving. I see caring. I see tenderness. I see vulnerability. I see talents and gifts. I see my smile. I see my joy.
I see you.
I see the piece of love falling nearby. I reach to grab it, to hold it, to contain it. It is light as a feather and flits away. It swoops in the wind of the grenade and of my need to hold on tight. It avoids my yearning. As I sit and watch it flittering and fluttering, I smile. I laugh. It can’t be owned or held. It should be free and lite on my pieces. It should be light. I can’t grab it, and when I try it is in more turmoil. But I want it all. I want to feel its’ joy and freedom. I want to be safe and secure.
I don’t want to be alone. My desperation stirs the wind and love circles again. Again, I smile. Again, I laugh.
Love is that missing piece that is only there when you don’t hold on to it.