Undone.
Incomplete.
Something missing.
We think we are pieces of a puzzle,
You and I.
Faith.
Hope.
The last of our expectations.
immersed in the notion of something
that will fulfill us.
We are so intrigued with this idea
of someone
Completing us.
Healing us.
Filling us.
Sometimes I wonder…
Maybe we were born whole,
not nuts and bolts.
not a jigsaw puzzle.
nothing missing.
The breeze stopped blowing,
whispering secrets no more.
Stood still in awe
of the paradise around.
Yearning to shine bright,
the North Star, faintly visible,
took its first breaths
of that stellar night.
Red and Orange mingled.
The horizon was a death bed,
the mighty Sun lay on it.
One last caress.
One last kiss.
Down went the mighty Sun,
the last of its brilliance
gobbled by the Death Bed.
Night had fallen.
Whimsical Wordsmith 