I breathe. While my mind scrambles to lay the pieces strait in order to "return to normal", I breath.
A question arises:
Why do you scramble, overwhelmed by life's puzzle?
Locate the border pieces, it is safe.
Assemble them and congratulate yourself for following the only path the puzzle maker designed.
Construct the same limitations that a thousand men given the same pieces have produced a thousand times before, and congratulate yourself.
A puzzle can never be rearranged. It is safe.
Fill the last hole with the missing piece.
Congratulate yourself, you've finished
Look at the picture and what's it display?
Dissatisfaction.
How could this be...
It looks just like the picture on the box, so be assured the applied method was undertaken precisely- all the holes are filled so why are we left feeling empty?
Not one among us designed the picture we all die working so hard to produce.
No longer will I labor to find just the right piece for just the right spot, within the confines of a border I did not designate, to produce a picture I did not dream up.
All the pieces lay about me, but I won't put them back together the way they were...Instead of rebuilding the puzzle I'll use the pieces to design a sculpture that can't be described by the contents of it's construction.
This is my chance to build what I actually want for myself.
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