Beautiful

Pieces of ramdomness.
Nameless and faceless.
Masking in the moonlight, hoping for adoption.
Ugly wounds, shinning forth.
Carried and picked up one layer at a time.
The desolate heart had been shattered beyond repair.
Turned away and shunned by those who recognise its shame.
The once prized heart is now being talked about and ridiculed.
How far can this soul go?
Where comes his purpose and meaning?
Like a seamstress, who treasures the scapes she picks up.
Seeing in them their value and perhaps purpose.
Happy to have collected them, she places them safely and gently into her bosom.
Goes home, takes out her prized treasures.
One at a time, she inspects with careful planning in use them, to understand their texture, nature, colour,need, feel, touch, care.
Only, so she can sew her fabrics according to their purposes, which they were created for.
The only eye and heart that hears our desperation.
Crosses the miles just to get to us.
Chooses us to be his prized gems.
Allows us to be broken and re moulded.
Only one who sees the bigger tapestry which we are all part of.
Wisdom, creativity, precision, purposeful is his work of art in our lifes.
As individuals and a whole at the same time.
Such marvel is one, someone I call, God, my father and mother.