EVERY PIECE OF ME IS DIFFERENT

I fell apart.  Every piece of me crumbled to the ground.  Like chards of glass, some edges were dull, some sharp, some half broken.

I was never the same after that fall.  Then someone helped pick up and hold my broken pieces as I reassembled me.  Not the old me.  Those pieces are gone.

Then something happened and I fell apart again.  Every piece of me crumbled to the ground.  Like chards of glass, some edges were dull, some sharp, some half broken.  Not the same pieces as when I fell apart before.  These were new shapes of broken.

And again, I was never the same after that fall.  Then that same someone helped pick up and hold my broken pieces as I reassembled me.  Not the newer old me.  Those pieces are gone.

Then something happened and I fell apart again.  Every piece of me crumbled to the ground.  Like chards of glass, some edges were dull, some sharp, some half broken.  Not the same pieces as when I fell apart before.  These were new shapes of broken.

For you see, when we fall apart, we are never the same from the previous time.  We have changed.  We might fall apart for the same reason, but the shapes of the pieces are not.  And someone will hold the pieces as we re-assemble our depleted self.

To stand and move forward again. For each time EVERY PIECE OF ME IS DIFFERENT

 

 

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About TriYogaDude

Runner, Triathlete and Yoga Teacher E-RYT200, YACEP, Yoga Teacher Trainer Faculty
This entry was posted in Healing, Meditation, Yoga and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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