The concept of “unity” is puzzling,

its pieces are misshapen, they do not fit together,

they do not want to fit together.

 

But they do. 

The pieces are sized and cut, 

their gnarly ridges, sanded and smoothed.

Formed. 

 

Formed by a hand.

Necessity and progress.

Without the hand, there is no puzzle, 

simply shards of “us” and “them”.

 

So, each shard is broken,

its ridges, peaks, and folds, worked away.

Worked away so that it may accomodate its neighbor.

 

In the end, when its most perfect form is reached,

after this set of pieces has changed its final hand,

the puzzle will shine, a spectacle of perfectly cut squares.