Mosaic

The fragments of my life are laid out before me. The shrapnel from my most recent battles still sharp, given no time to erode. Broken glass surrounds me. I ache to fix it, but I've been given no tools, and I don't know how. I long to build it back up to the proud church it once was. It wouldn't be stable enough now anyways, for too many pieces are missing and the main support has left. It would never be properly built the same way again. People walk by, but offer no help. Few offer helpful words, telling me to, "Just fix it." Their advice confuses me, but I try again and again. No progress has been made and there are no blueprints in sight. All I can see is broken glass and glinting obsidian. They blind me with their darkness. Hopelessness fills me, and I lay down onto the bed of shards, allowing the pain to consume me. Allowing the glass to burn itself into my brain. But just as the last bit of my life attempts to make its exit, a thought rushes at me. I'll build a mosaic.