Morning

Morning has broken
like every morning
I’ve ever known:
potential perfection
shattered into
a trillion splinters
before we could truly
witness completeness.

I search out a
tiny fragment
to call my own and,
like every morning,
carefully contemplate
this uneven shard for
a reflection of its
immaculate origin.

Once I glimpse this,
I can find gratitude,
within which lies
contentment.
Morning is restored
one day at a time.

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