BitsFragments are all we have

Those splinters from visions we had

That seemed to have value, then left

A chimera


All the pieces will not fit

They can’t. They are not meant to

For progress steps over remnants

And builds different castles


So memory is the only glue

That may half offend

Or re-instate small victories

From shards we recall


Do not construct a fantasy

From glittering pieces that are false

Superstition may alter the mood

But flesh and blood obey the mirror


The imperious urge

Or fatuous vanity

Will always attempt to conspire

With someone else’s silver tongue


But reflections are just that

Interpretations of slippery facts

That wobble on the surface

For those that take flights of fancy