Puzzles

As I look through the pieces that lie on the floor,
I can't help but feel that some of the more intricate ones are missing.

I dump the remaining ones out to be sorted through,
no longer to be hidden by the box they once were in.

I continue to push my hands threw the huge pile of individuality on the floor,
gently touching the side of this piece, and the tip of that one.

I rotate around the completed portion of my work, looking for a different perspective,
A new angle, unseen before, that will motivate my search for the next piece, spurring me onward.

It seems as if I can almost put my finger on the piece that would complete me, my puzzle,
yet it always is just slightly larger, or shaped a shade differently then what is needed.

None the less, I try each piece that resembles that which is necessary. No matter how much effort is used,
the piece continually bucks at every attempt made, and finally, after much effort and grief, the piece is abandoned.

I pick up the next piece, only to go through the same lingering process.
Then the next, and again the next piece, until finally the piece I hold slides effortlessly into the void that I have become so focused to fill.

I encourage myself to continue this pursuit, my obsession, by looking at the completed portions of the puzzle.
Seeing the emerging beauty, this flawless picture of happiness, this absolute, is the ultimate drive.

Standing back to admire, I think of how empty this puzzle had been, and how much further it has to go.
Smirking, I begin to search for the next piece of my life, knowing it has just as an important of a role as all those before it.