Puzzle

There is a puzzle in a box that sits in a corner, almost forgotten.  The pieces, now faded and amber hued from age, were once young and bright.  They are unique pieces, unlike the pieces you would find in most puzzles.  These shapes fit together in many ways, which has often led people to feel they had solved the puzzle, though their unsatisfying end result was not something they could understand or appreciate.  In truth, that is the complexity of this puzzle; not to simply jam together the pieces that fit, but to take one’s time and inspect each piece and learn how it is connected to the others and why.  To assemble the work, not to conform to what you wish it would be, but as it was intended to be, even when you cannot understand the pattern.  Once this is done the puzzle will be yours and yours alone, as you and you alone will understand the truth its collective pieces speak.  The final mosaic shares a secret truth that is still bold despite the puzzle’s fading and scarred pieces.  The puzzle possesses neither pride nor envy.  It simply waits to be solved.  Each day that passes, each person who gives in after a failed attempt, each year of lost allure adds only to the value and singularity of its sacred humble secret.