So many bits and pieces, words and phrases
splattered on pages like stars scatter the night.
As we create constellations in our search for
connection where none may exist, but why?
Searching for understanding, myself and life;
Am I scrying far-too-far from me, myself and I,
for the same truth, where breath becomes air?
I may find it in the spirit of this meat puppet,
Where my skin touches atmosphere, beyond.
Uncertain what my words and phrases mean,
I will sort my bits and pieces to find my truth.