Sophia sighs.

She strives to assemble the puzzle

But the boundaries are difficult to find.

No top.

No bottom.

Irregular fields of every kind.

So,

She rides a river of cloud

En route to complete the connections

With enchantment as her guide.

All the while death chases her body,

Trees are felled en masse.

More pieces of the puzzle lie asunder,

Mad landscapes of the mind.

Sophia studiously contemplates the same that many have tried

But there’s nothing new under the sun here,

Same bugs,

Same chemistry of life.

So,

She spins a web of feeling,

Fragile threads blown by time.

Her parcels small bundles of particulars wound up in heart and light

To sustain her rites of passage

Through random journeys and jagged nights,

Until mountains of query

Mirror joy and brine.

Inconsequential dander is gold in the mine!

Her eyes are astronomy.

Her fingers are art.

Her legs are Linguistic.

Reason is her knife.

She is now.

She is whole.

Her story shines.

Purpose is evident in the arc of the rhyme.

Be(come)ing a piece of the puzzle

Is to fit and define

The center

And the edges.

Sophia sighs.

©

jeannie dugan sanders