The Art of Coming Together

Allow it.
Realize there are no clocks,
that jewels are often hidden
in dust and grime,
that a deep breath,
a single moment,
changes everything.

Listen.
Not to the voices in your head,
but to the birds that sing,
to the wind that rustles your hair
and brings you perfume from the late season flowers.

Pick up the pieces,
the ones that remain.
No matter if they are broken
or some are missing,
for life is not a puzzle to be completed,
but art to be created.

About this poem. 

It’s never too late to become. No matter how broken we are.

Tom