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Mosaic of Life
Her life was a mosaic.
A colossal and inexplicable mosaic. Composed of a million intricate pieces; Some more illustrated than others, but each detail representing an element of her existence; A hope, a memory, even a tragedy...
She wondered how often her eyes had deceived her; How she had been unconsciously attracted to the areas where the dazzling sun shone it's beaming rays brighter and made it appear more enchanting.
And of course, she'd never failed to notice the dusky parts, that always seemed to be in constant darkness and shade.
She looked down towards the dayspring dew as she solemnly recalled how when sometimes segments became broken, how strong the urge was to want to sift and scour through each miniscule piece; The countless wasted hours she'd spent analysing and scrutinising each individual shattered and tiny fragment...
It was now she realised - the damaged parts were important, essential even. How could she possess an image of such fine artistry and magnificence without an array of textures? Rough and smooth. Or without a palette that contained an arrangement of constrating colours? Warm and bold, cold and dark; Each feature held as much significance as another. Combined together and fitting perfectly like a grandiose and enigmatic jigsaw, to create the bigger picture, all that truly mattered; The mosaic as a whole...
'Glass and sand are just the same', she whispered to herself, as she grasped tighter against the sharp and rough edges that had been long tightly clutched between her blood stained palms and felt them disintegrate into soft grains; Slipping lightly between her fingers becoming shards of beautiful nothingness; Stardust...
Tightly pursed lips curled upwards into a forgotten smile of appreciation and pride.
Her life was a mosaic.
And what a masterpiece it was...
© Carriejh
A colossal and inexplicable mosaic. Composed of a million intricate pieces; Some more illustrated than others, but each detail representing an element of her existence; A hope, a memory, even a tragedy...
She wondered how often her eyes had deceived her; How she had been unconsciously attracted to the areas where the dazzling sun shone it's beaming rays brighter and made it appear more enchanting.
And of course, she'd never failed to notice the dusky parts, that always seemed to be in constant darkness and shade.
She looked down towards the dayspring dew as she solemnly recalled how when sometimes segments became broken, how strong the urge was to want to sift and scour through each miniscule piece; The countless wasted hours she'd spent analysing and scrutinising each individual shattered and tiny fragment...
It was now she realised - the damaged parts were important, essential even. How could she possess an image of such fine artistry and magnificence without an array of textures? Rough and smooth. Or without a palette that contained an arrangement of constrating colours? Warm and bold, cold and dark; Each feature held as much significance as another. Combined together and fitting perfectly like a grandiose and enigmatic jigsaw, to create the bigger picture, all that truly mattered; The mosaic as a whole...
'Glass and sand are just the same', she whispered to herself, as she grasped tighter against the sharp and rough edges that had been long tightly clutched between her blood stained palms and felt them disintegrate into soft grains; Slipping lightly between her fingers becoming shards of beautiful nothingness; Stardust...
Tightly pursed lips curled upwards into a forgotten smile of appreciation and pride.
Her life was a mosaic.
And what a masterpiece it was...
© Carriejh
