And nothing fits back together.
We stand in the pile, puzzled, hands filled with the broken pieces,
Some of which are not even ours.
The piles spill together, mingling at the edges.
When everything falls, we try to stand,
rake up the piles into something that offers balance.
Sometimes the pieces fit, and click together with a protective certainty;
sometimes they leave holes that offer light.
Take what you need.