He wonders why they always end up like this-
Tracing the large split down the centre with his finger
He feels the echo of the trauma that caused it
Like a thump to the chest.
Dozens of smaller cracks fan out from the central canyon-
A delta of fresh channels spreading from the older, deeper river.
He can see that, rather than emerging from the main breakage,
They started separately & ran into it, augmenting the larger trauma.
Dolefully, he runs his fingers over them,
feeling every disappointment,
So many. Surely it should have fallen apart.
Looking closer, he notices tiny strings across the cracks,
Almost knitting them together.
Although small, they appear strong.
He feels each of them gently;
A kind word,
A thoughtful gesture,
A burst of uncontainable laughter-
Such joy from the simplest of moments.
Carefully covering the vessel with both hands,
He feels it as a whole, & smiles.
Yes, he thinks.
Now I understand.