All of the pieces were gathered,
The hardwood floors were left clean.
No more flaws sporadically scattered;
Only the big picture is to be seen.
It was all that mattered--
Keeping the edges pristine.
The ideal had been flattered,
But within its borders lie the obscene.
A fantastic tapestry tattered,
by the empty voids in between.
Too few pieces,
Too much peace. ...
