A vase has fallen on the glass table,
Spilled water glistens in the sun,
It fell and broke an edge, and I could throw the vase away,
As broken vases are not fun.
It always seems to us that broken
And shattered things should all be gone…..
Because you learned since you were little,
That for each broken thing there is replacement,
And you can always get another one.
But then I look at you and smile,
You’re seating at your desk, you’re mending things,
Just like in the rainy day when I met you,
When you took my hand and fixed my wings.
Without my wings I had been nothing,
No hopes or dreams, I could not fly,
I did not plan to have them broken,
But truth is all of us are falling,
And some of us survive, while others die.
The voice of reason tells you catch,
And then the same voice tells you toss,
Please drill this voice and let your heart,
To do the speaking,
For heart has also better ear to hear a broken soul when creaking.
Just like the vase, in life we could all get broken,
Most creaks don’t come by choice,
Shouldn’t we learn to take these imperfections, mend them?
Because when tossing things they end in landfill,
And many will then lose their beauty,
And many will then lose their voice…..
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