Broken Is Not the End

Fragments of a once whole,

now scattered,

lost pieces in the dust,

they lie, remnants of dreams

once vivid, now faded to whispers.

A mirror shatters,

each shard reflecting

a distorted memory,

a glimmer of what was,

a life unraveled

into a mosaic of pain.

Echoes of laughter

reverberate in empty rooms,

a haunting reminder

of warmth now absent,

where shadows dance

to a song of solitude,

each note a reminder

of joy turned to sorrow.

Hands reach out,

grasping at air,

fingers tracing the outline

of invisible scars,

etchings of battles fought

and loves lost

on the canvas of the soul.

Time marches on,

indifferent to the wreckage,

its relentless pace

grinds even the strongest stone

to sand,

erasing traces of what once stood,

majestic and proud,

now humbled by the passage

of indifferent years.

In the silence,

between the heartbeats,

lies the truth—

broken does not mean

unmendable,

only changed,

each crack a testament

to resilience,

each break a new path

toward understanding.

Amidst the ruins,

seeds of renewal

take root,

sprouting tendrils of hope,

green against the gray,

promising that from the ashes,

something new will rise,

not the same as before,

but beautiful in its own way.

The heart, though fractured,

beats with a stubborn rhythm,

defying the weight

of its own despair,

finding strength in the act

of carrying on,

in the simple truth

that to be broken

is to be human,

to live is to embrace

the cracks and the seams,

to find light in the spaces

where darkness once dwelled.

So, in the quiet moments,

when the world seems too heavy

and the burden too great,

remember this:

broken is not the end,

but a beginning,

a chance to rebuild,

to reshape,

to rediscover the beauty

in being whole

once more.

This poem was written for a contest. I hope you enjoyed it!