Aren’t the most lovely things broken and flawed?
The diamond is born under pressure,
its’ beauty only revealed after cutting and polishing.
The gentle crazing of memory around the eyes
A map of all our smiles and tears.
How dull and flat the shine of new things
Only through time we see true worth.
The sea shell whorls slowly
The tree moves imperceptibly towards heaven
The days we sift through
The years we remember
The moments so small as to be forgotten
