Like the missing puzzle piece no longer fitting in the
picture, am I.
Never fitting or belonging anywhere, always alone, a
solitary figure, I roam this earth through darkest nights.
Finding at last a temporary hold through Hospice, where
in.
We are companions of a sort for a short while as we teeter
on edges of death, and then let go.
So I guess if I were to belong somewhere on this earth, this
is the place, until I at last let go to become a part of a
universal heavenly picture puzzle for eternity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem