pieces.

Rose, petal, flower, stem. Pieces of a whole. Peace is whole. Everything is in a person and everything is not. A human being dreaming. Dreaming of life and past and lives past and dreams past and dreamily dreaming of past dreams and of all in life once dreamt. Days, some slept through, some stepped through and stepped through and stepped through quickly. Some days forgotten. Some days never could forget. Some days you'll remember but you haven't yet. Days as apart of the whole, of life as whole, days as pieces, as mortar and stones. Pieces dropped, pieces saved.

A person remembers, a person forgets. Some memories are empty nets. A human dreaming. A person dreaming in pieces. A person is pieces. A human vast, a person whole, a wholeness as trillions of pieces. A mosaic, in pieces. A person dreams, of daughters and sons and nephews and nieces, dreaming of atoms, of cells, of bones, of organs, of the mind, of the heart, of bare feet in cool grass and of hot sun, of salty sea air and the song of a distant gull, of that first time your child, so small, is held, your heart is held, your soul forever in pieces, of family opening presents and of tears your tears running down cheeks now full of creases, of a sun rising when you thought again it never would, of a son smiling when you thought again he never could, of the smell of spring the rapture of life, of strife, of a husband and a wife, of pain that is not your own, of a child crying, of a child comforted, of pain that is your own, the pain of loss, the pain of life, the joy of life, the promise of living, of giving, of youth and all of its loss, of these parts that make a person, a human in parts. A person in pieces.

A person in body, a person must end they, must end, day must end, night then light and back to day again. But the light does not end. And thoughts will not end, memory will not end, the heart will not end, love will not end. We are pieces, and some pieces live on in other people in other places in other parts of the planet, on and on as birds in flight, as grass of the field and as trees. Of dust, to dust, but so much more than dust. And dust is only a part, a part that does not include the deepness of the heart. The endless heart. The dust is only a part. We've met at this moment, together in the breeze. Cool, and at peace in the fresh green leaves. Together we have met, in the place where there can be, no darkness, because we are the light of stars, and we are the thoughts of our children, and we are their tears. And we have met at this moment, and we will meet again, and again, forever.

A person in pieces, peace is whole. A person as peace. A person is pieces.