Left for dead in a graceless land
With a vengeance
clutched close at hand.
Yet there's not enough links
restraining you from the brink
To command your twisted
legs to stand.

You're broken beyond repair,
Obsolete for what you once did
But ideal for all that the future brings.
Tearing yourself at the seams
Back to the original pieces.
To be built anew, gazing out
With a tear-blurred view.

Like a fallen empire
That had stood for so long
You look upon the ashes
of what once was
And you cant see what it is
Until the smoke is gone.
But when it clears
you'll find the truth
hidden in the rubble all along.

Because the pieces appear
Broken and alone
But, when seen from afar,
are interlocked
with other parts
creating a efficiency
complexity cannot show.

There's a beauty in the broken
A potential softly spoken.
But all beauty bleeds and shrivels
And becomes broken, raw and riddled.
And the broken crumbles, is picked apart
Loaned to exist in composition
with another work of art.

How can Beauty thrive
When it's the pattern
and not the pieces
That arouse desire?
How can anything be broken
when all is changing
with every moment
in the cosmic current?

Perhaps it all exists
Just as it is so,
That to possess such
a loving heart
Requires it's cradled
by a pair of broken arms.