Beauty in the Broken

Left for dead in a graceless land

With a vengeance

clutched close at hand.

Yet there’s not enough links

restraining you from the brink

To command your twisted

legs to stand.

 

You’re broken beyond repair,

Obsolete for what you once did

But ideal for all that the future brings.

Tearing yourself at the seams

Back to the original pieces.

To be built anew, gazing out

With a tear-blurred view.

 

Like a fallen empire

That had stood for so long

You look upon the ashes

of what once was

And you cant see what it is

Until the smoke is gone.

But when it clears

 you’ll find the truth

hidden in the rubble all along.

 

Because the pieces appear

Broken and alone

But, when seen from afar,

are interlocked

with other parts

creating a efficiency

complexity cannot show.

 

There’s a beauty in the broken

A potential softly spoken.

But all beauty bleeds and shrivels

And becomes broken, dulled and riddled.

And the broken crumbles, is picked apart

Loaned to exist in composition

with another work of art.                               

 

How can Beauty thrive

When it’s the pattern

and not the pieces

That arouse desire?

 

How can anything be broken

when all is changing

with every moment

in the cosmic current?

 

Perhaps it all exists

Just as it is so

That to possess such

a loving heart

Requires it’s cradled

by a pair of broken arms.

Reviews

[Crossed Sky]

It's a little long for my taste, but aside from that I think it's very clever and deep. Very nice work!~~

Love this stanzas:

Like a fallen empire

That had stood for so long

You look upon the ashes

of what once was

And you cant see what it is

Until the smoke is gone.

But when it clears

you’ll find the truth

hidden in the rubble all along.


Because the pieces appear

Broken and alone

But, when seen from afar,

are interlocked

with other parts

creating a efficiency

complexity cannot show.


There’s a beauty in the broken

A potential softly spoken.

But all beauty bleeds and shrivels

And becomes broken, dulled and riddled.

And the broken crumbles, is picked apart

Loaned to exist in composition

with another work of art.