Living like it’s golden—
gold fresh-plucked from soil,
solid
but broken into small pieces.
Living, living, living,
while wishing and wishing
those scattered fragments
could somehow be molded
into something whole.
If you could haunt me
a little closer—
close enough
to feel your warmth inside my glow—
you would see
these pieces were always bigger
than they appeared.
So you gather them.
You bind them together.
You make them whole.
Save me—
but don’t save me.
I know you want to.
I wish you would.
I wish you could.
Because these little golden pieces,
once joined,
become something stronger:
block upon block,
weight upon weight,
a structure capable
of carrying meaning.
Make me whole again.
Give me purpose.
Help me swim
toward the ocean
that might finally hold me.
Because when fragments bind,
they discover value.
A purpose.
A place in this world.
And I know—
I know—
it would always feel that way with you.
Together,
binding.
Apart,
scattered.
So if we are only pieces
searching for something
to hold us together,
what are we really
when left alone?
Shallow?
Unfinished?
Still searching for our place?
One thing I know for certain:
left only with myself,
I risk getting lost inside myself.
So sometimes
it feels easier
to exist in you.
Maybe if things were different,
if we were born larger,
more complete,
we would not need each other
so desperately.
Maybe we could carry our own value
without searching for mirrors.
But perhaps
we were always meant
to bond.
To gather.
To find ourselves
on shelves,
in circles,
in communities,
in congregations
of equally fractured things.
And you—
you know the pieces that I am.
So I breathe through
all that I can.
It is enough, I suppose,
to know we are real,
that we feel.
And then one day
we realize:
small pieces
can still shine
on their own.
They find new places
to call home.
And suddenly—
they glow.
Like gold does.
Brilliantly.
Softly.
Calling attention
without begging for it.
Simply existing
in light.
Maybe it’s real.
Maybe it’s fantasy.
Maybe meaning itself
is only another thing
we melt down
and reshape.
Still—
I will try anyway.
Our Days & Futures 