Breccia

A beautifully imperfect creation, 
Mottled in angst and frustration,
Capturing stray drops of sunlight
To warm you on the colder nights. 
The open evening air calls you
To gain that moment of solitude
Between the sediments of thought
Lined and calmed in melodies. 
You don't absorb or reflect
When bathing in the day's light, 
But refract polychromatic splendour
Through your fused shrapnel.
Each playing piece considered and
Placed within the web of fragments
Builds a mosaic of endurance:
A tenacious testament of truth, 
Boldly embraced through fractures
And acknowledged reality splinters. 
The weathered debris of survival
Formed you a formidable warrior
Encased in your own clast armour:
Sharply witted within awareness, 
Yet dynamically poised, prepared 
For metamorphic elevation.
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