Incomplete is beautiful
Best things have dents;
sometimes filled with scratches all over.
They are somehow broken, beyond repair.
-There may be a part missed,
or a part hidden deep down,
or simply, a part left behind.
There surely, is an essence of beauty in it.
It is an identity to it after all!
Would it matter this much
if it were to be content with everything?
At times, it comes down to resonate with us.
-We have this feeling
to have lost something;
a thing that we possessed for a long time,
a thing that was supposedly ours!
-And sometimes we often feel
that we have lost our own-selves
or a part of ourselves, for that matter!
It is some abstract kind of feeling
that we never know, and can never tell.
We often have this urge to find that something.
Because we happen to believe
that the lost part would complete us.
It would perhaps bring us utmost happiness.
Still, we fail to decipher.
-Maybe it is too evident to notice.
It leads to making us feel incomplete;
but in the end, it is the only thing
that makes us beautiful…
because, Incomplete is beautiful!