Reflections Upon Making a Mosaic for Western Civ.

a hundred little pieces lie before me,
a senseless sea of confetti
waiting to be unified into a work of art.

the latticework of shredded paper looks back at me,
blues and oranges mingling amongst slips of tiny, truncated words.

this particular blue is the color of promises,
but in the sky it forms, i see nothing but a patch of broken shards;

the reds and yellows form a clumsy, minced-up sunset
and the great, sweeping lines of the horses
turn them into crooked, errant creatures.

individually, the picture is a stuttering mass of colors and corners,
a mob without a motive,
a meaningless exercise;

but together, they form a message,
a song that is both fragile and formidable,
a beautiful, ragged symphony.