when we shatter, as we so often do, we want to hide it. disguise it. carry it into the dark.
we are broken pottery, dusting the floor of the shop, waiting for the inevitable corn broom that will come and sweep us away into nothingness. but not all that is broken is worth nothing. you are brought back into the fold from whence you came from, and loving hands hold you steady, searing gold into your chips and sealing your achievements in an illuminated way. you return to the world whole, better than before.
it is always a process, it is not always a short one. but it is always worth the journey.