Confetti
Pieces
of
the
Heart
A priceless, precious thing,
The heart –
Porcelain of the soul –
But
only by illusion does living
take its toll
In cracks and chips and shattered breaks
And
Fate of no
control
While truth remains,
In beats
of beauty,
One organic whole.
Hence,
The essence of celebration,
Holiday or
not,
Is to
fully live the whole,
Gaily but unbesot,
And deliberately
break to pieces
All that contradicts,
Then throw as bright confetti
While the clock does waste its ticks.
– Mary Jo Magar –