Jigsaw Soul

Each passing day puts on display a puzzle piece of jigsaw soul. Providing parts to add to hearts, from halfway done to fully whole. The bygone years are souvenirs, the trinkets of a time gone by; though caked with rust, dried blood, and dust, they stain, then fade, but never die. The decades roll and ring a toll for lessons taught but slowly learned. Experience, with common sense, shall grow, rebuilding bridges burned. The wisdom found on weathered ground repays, with interest, youthful debt. Each piece a shred, profusely bled, but, joined as one, a finished set.