Our lives are fragmenting, breaking like shattered glass. Each time we think that we have picked up the pieces and mended it, it breaks again. The pieces are getting smaller and smaller with each new fracture.
Pieces are missing now. We can’t find them, perhaps they have turned to dust and been scattered to the wind. The possibilities are endless as to where they have gone. All that is known is that our lives shall never be whole, but rather mish-mashed mirrors full of holes, reflecting a refracted image.
That is our lives now. An imperfect image, splintered and divided. No glue, no heat can bind the gaping wounds and fill in the gaps. Nothing can replace what has gone missing, our most precious things.