When a vase breaks

And shards are scattered

It seems forever ruined

And to be fair, it is

It will never be smooth

Or hold no scars

Ever again

But that’s not the point

The point isn’t to prefect the vase again

It’s to put it back together

With all its glue marks and stains

The vase will never be perfect

But it will be compete

So why’s it matter if it’s perfect?

If the vase is happy

Happy to finally be put back together

Then you should be too

The vase isn’t perfect

But it is trying

The vase is content with what it has become