Building a Mystery

In this jigsaw puzzle, she holds tightly to the place where she belongs.

She fits here; her curves and arcs lock nicely into her lot in life.

It’s an understanding that is supposed to solidify with time;

A safeguarding that allows for peace and understanding of the pieces of existence around her.

Instead, after time, she finds her curves unlike they used to be.

Desperately clawing to maintain her monotony, she falls out of place to the horror of her own desperation.

Out in this desert land of diversity, the air feels surprisingly smooth on her exterior.

She tastes and smells the allure of this bold undertaking and the sovereignty it brings.

Sweet breezes of new experience kiss her eyelashes with promises of a new existence to follow.

The vice grip of fear that used to hold a violent love affair with her now slowly drips away.

Her lot fading, she fights to understand, clinging still to the outskirts of familiarity.

She holds on to something she should let go of, and lets go of ideals she should cling to,

And so causing a discouraging heartache that like a parasite, exploits her helpless vulnerability.

She anxiously forces her curves to click into her old life.

But her shape is melting away in this new environment.

The foreign landscape continues to morph, to her adoration and horror.

She turns to explain,

But no one is there.

She flips and flops from one side to the other trying desperately to still fit.

Why, oh why doesn’t she fit?

"Do you not understand?

Oh please, won’t you please understand? Let me explain to you, ….

Are you even listening?"

Maybe, just maybe she decides, she’ll wander and hop and skip throughout other lots…

She will click into the world around her, and experience life on the other side for a while..

Then she can certainly come back and life will continue on in its Disneyworld of familiarity.

But during this investigation of a new life to be lived,

The best thing possible happens,

Her sweet taste of life outside her confines of home permanently change the shape of her soul. …

And instead of squeezing into her old lot, she fits quite nicely into her new world instead.

She smiles, seeing clearly for the first time that she was cursing a dream come true.

Her fairy godmother was tipping her wand in the right direction all along,

But she just couldn’t see.

She was holding her blinders so tightly that all she could perceive was darkness.

       ...........

Time to let go now, dear puzzled piece of mine.

You are still holding too tightly to a lot not your own.

You are still damning your uniqueness.

In lifetimes before, these other pieces may have fit around you like a glove, but to hold them now would suffocate the very atmosphere that pervades your heaven.

This is a transformation that is meant to be,

For without this realization,

You surely would never go.

You would never forgo this lot in life for the quest of deeper blues and splendid curves.

You would never see.

It’s time now to take off the blinders, Dear Enigma.

It’s time to merge with a larger whole.