trap.
01-22-2013, 07:19 PM
posted on 11-04-2001
Puzzle
Tell me why can't we see eye to eye.
First you hesitate then I.
Such a tangled web we weave when we choose to believe.
That love is anything but a puzzle.
A puzzle encased in such an elaborate box.
The picture on the outside
is the perfect depiction of Love.
Down in the corner
is the copyright reading made by the "Above."
No instructions or warranty.
Just a clause enclosed
Noting that true happiness would not be found.
Until this puzzle "for all ages" has been completely done.
And what is love if not a puzzle.
A pluthera of pieces that fall from above.
In no certain order but steadily all the same.
And piecing them together
Starts as merely a child's game.
Looking at one piece then another.
Admiring still
The shape, the size and color of yet another.
Examining where one fits and where others do not.
The pieces along the edges
Simply being those farthest from the puzzle's heart.
And those closest to the center
Povide a sanctuary.
A place meant for just one ur true love to enter.
Needing and wanting
For things to fall into place.
So we may finally feel
The warmth of Love's embrace.
Thinking of all the
Work and time that we've put into this task.
Knowing it will all have been
Worthwhile to in their arms and eyes
Have the comfort and security to willingly bask.
Not a piece out of place must there be.
When we are finally through
Our perfect depiction we are meant to finally see.
A love with whom we are meant to be.
So why is it so hard
For us to solve this enigma?
And why does a number
Not appear on each piece of our puzzle?
A way for us to simply know
Where each and every piece shall go
Perhaps it's best this we do not know.
Forcing us to pick and choose over
And over again.
Where each and every piece shall go
Until at such time we come to the end.
The final piece we'll drop in.
Will not need for us to mash or bend.
It will simply slip into place.
In the center
All the colors and shapes will become one face.
The face that
Has driven us over time.
Could it possibly be
That I have seen the center of mine?
For as I look back
On the pieces I've gone through.
The odd and the seemingly perfect.
The reds, yellows, and blues.
I see that "I" am the puzzle
And not the love I searched for.
If you look closely you too will see.
That amidst all the chaos
That has thusfar ensued.
My center
My heart still holds true.
For in that center
I see you
Puzzle
Tell me why can't we see eye to eye.
First you hesitate then I.
Such a tangled web we weave when we choose to believe.
That love is anything but a puzzle.
A puzzle encased in such an elaborate box.
The picture on the outside
is the perfect depiction of Love.
Down in the corner
is the copyright reading made by the "Above."
No instructions or warranty.
Just a clause enclosed
Noting that true happiness would not be found.
Until this puzzle "for all ages" has been completely done.
And what is love if not a puzzle.
A pluthera of pieces that fall from above.
In no certain order but steadily all the same.
And piecing them together
Starts as merely a child's game.
Looking at one piece then another.
Admiring still
The shape, the size and color of yet another.
Examining where one fits and where others do not.
The pieces along the edges
Simply being those farthest from the puzzle's heart.
And those closest to the center
Povide a sanctuary.
A place meant for just one ur true love to enter.
Needing and wanting
For things to fall into place.
So we may finally feel
The warmth of Love's embrace.
Thinking of all the
Work and time that we've put into this task.
Knowing it will all have been
Worthwhile to in their arms and eyes
Have the comfort and security to willingly bask.
Not a piece out of place must there be.
When we are finally through
Our perfect depiction we are meant to finally see.
A love with whom we are meant to be.
So why is it so hard
For us to solve this enigma?
And why does a number
Not appear on each piece of our puzzle?
A way for us to simply know
Where each and every piece shall go
Perhaps it's best this we do not know.
Forcing us to pick and choose over
And over again.
Where each and every piece shall go
Until at such time we come to the end.
The final piece we'll drop in.
Will not need for us to mash or bend.
It will simply slip into place.
In the center
All the colors and shapes will become one face.
The face that
Has driven us over time.
Could it possibly be
That I have seen the center of mine?
For as I look back
On the pieces I've gone through.
The odd and the seemingly perfect.
The reds, yellows, and blues.
I see that "I" am the puzzle
And not the love I searched for.
If you look closely you too will see.
That amidst all the chaos
That has thusfar ensued.
My center
My heart still holds true.
For in that center
I see you