There is a disconnect

There is a disconnect

A separation

All the pieces lie in disarray

Nothing will bring them together

Count them out

One at a time

It is not what we find

In the sorting

But what is missing

In the display

Critical errors

Of judgement

So easily made

When fingers slip elsewhere

Searching for what has gone

Losing track of a reason

For sifting through

All that remains

Of a puzzle

Will bring little clarity

To a confusion

Of purpose

When what is seen

Is a lack

Of what was

In the beginning

A picture of incompletion

No more than a distraction

From the malaise

Of existential

Disease

No amount of sifting

Through figments

Of splintered memory

Will bring an image

Back to life

Consolation

Is part of the disappointment

Reassembly is pointless

When every piece

Replaced is only

The smallest part of

An expanding whole

Puzzles have little value

When a last piece

Remains...always

Missing.