To wonder.
Do the pieces of life ever fit together so perfectly to make the epitome of beauty.
As my life lay there shattered, like a glass vase so delicate, thrown to the ground to make a mosaic of pieces. I wondered.
What if I did put the pieces back together again, it would never look the same. It would never look as delicate, beautiful, serene again.
But crouched down, over these tiny yet sentimentally important pieces. Something catches my gaze.
The light. Streaming through the untouched pane of the window. I reached down and held up one, two, three pieces infront of the light.
And I saw it, as those tiny fragments shone and glittered in this stream of light, I didn\'t have to piece it back together to find the epitome of beauty.
That shattered glass, those tiny fragments, that glittering matter. That was the epitome of vulnerable beauty.