I understand the sentiments expressed by the leaky wall to my right. Drips falling from a ceiling where its pieces are cracked, exposed, broken; waiting for repair. The mystery of what’s wrong remains. Perhaps too expensive to even consider the repair of said damage. Though, if no fix exists, eventually it will crumble. Then what?
Aren’t we all just broken in some way? Awaiting an assessment of needs toward repair. Or maybe that step’s complete for you but the repair too costly for pockets to bear. Or the heart. Or mind. Or relationships.
What is it about holding on? Grasping til the crumble that’s been holding out just can’t bear no more? Damage will persist, yes. But won’t that release, that movement toward such mystery of what’s next fill the gasp that creates need for air? Or repair?
Well chile those cracks won’t let up now. Its exposure is loud and proud — wanting to be seen, heard, and felt. Can you feel it? You have no choice but to answer that call now. Gone on. Yes it’s an eye sore. A pain in a side even. But would you rather break within your will, or against it?
I'd rather break within!