I have started to find pieces of myself again, little shards here and there in the most unexpected, the most ordinary of places, like in a flaming orange curtain blowing with the gentlest of breeze, it reminded me of fire, and of a book I once read about an enchanted house some years ago.
I found another piece on the shore of the sea once beloved by me, it lay there gleaming in the glorious sunset and it took me a minute before I realized what it was and picked it up, fitting it back into my heart.
A third piece I found as it fell from the night sky, a shooting star in it’s own right, it landed in my backyard, glowing with the moon and the starbeams it had collected from it’s time in the heavens. I put it back where it belonged too, between the flaming curtain and the gleaming sunset.
I have just found three pieces yet, and I have innumerable more to find but I wonder how euphoric it must be to have found all of yourself again when only three have made me so complete, and what that says about the empty void inside of me.