To: That Jigsaw Puzzle

Every beautiful painting

Photograph

Sight

Memory

Object

Has a piece of me

I put whatever piece of me fits into beauty

(Art

Writing

My

Creations)

And keep it there as a gift

As an acknowledgement of my existence

My ode to the universe

Bringing awareness of my sentience

My consciousness

I am alive

The problem is

I am full of holes

I am a jigsaw puzzle with half of the pieces gone

Taking out parts

Sacrificing them for beauty

Maybe I can become

Will there be nothing left

Is that when we die, when we have given all of ourselves away?

Will I lie on my deathbed and willingly yield the last puzzle piece of me to death?

Will I cast it out to earth on a fishing line that is never to return?

Thrown by a hand that disappears back into the universe

I will be reborn

Collective consciousness covering stretches of hand picked beauty

Identified by me

And my soul will live on

Will this world get boring?

Will the beauty run out?

Leaving my ghost emptier than before

Frail and floating off to explore

A new

Universe

(So tell me, jigsaw puzzle

What's left?)