Beyond The Clutter

When the last glass ball shattered,
one more collectible I thought was treasure,
inside I felt crushed and in pieces
for I had placed my faith in a thing
one more hope hinged outside myself.

Yet morning came anyway
and once I reached beyond my loss,
there were flowers still to possess,
air to breath and days to be lived.

In the pain comes the awareness
how so much we grieve
is other than permanent,
it would die eventually,
only inside we are the ones
who have to find the truth,
the one that is our life
then let it rise in our sorrow
until we find what thrives
despite the sadness.

Might not be like others value,
doesn’t matter
as long as you can find yourself
among the pieces
where you rebuild
what can be apart of your own life,
honest and genuine
regardless of how it looks.