by Michelle Mays
Questing for the mystery of life can get old. It's like looking for a break in the code. Deduce it, reduce it, dissolve it, Just try to resolve it, The best you can get is a mercurial hold. It's like plucking all the petals off a rose, To find the mystery of all the beauty it holds. One by one they are falling, Still no secret is calling Just the pieces of a beautiful rose. It's gone now, you know; you can't make it not so. You can put it back together again, But what life it did hold is no longer within, Just the remnants and the pieces of the whole. It's like moving through the labyrinth snare Taking passage by passage with care. When you're sure that you've beat it, you find you're defeated. Back in the middle of the labyrinth's snare. It's gone now you know; you can't make it not so. You can put it back together again, But what life it did hold is no longer within, Just the remnants and the pieces of the whole. The measure of anything is in its heart. All the living and the giving it imparts. Dissected, one-sided, divided, It just can't be decided If the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Even though you can't see it, you know you believe it. The mystery of life is the whole. Accept it at face,leave the pieces in place. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Just listen to the hum of our hearts. Appropriate for general inspiration.