Too many details to see the big picture. Every piece in the box has been accounted for. First the corners, then the frame. Stare at the box and wonder how all the parts will finally emerge to coherence. If they will, I should say. Now we have a problem. Seeing clearly what should be. Having all the pieces of what could be. Still too many parts to put together. Contemplating the finality with the frustration of incoherent assemblies of the answer in front of me.
Other puzzles have become works of masterpieces hung by pride and laminated with confidence. This potential mess on my mind continues to count to 10,000. Or is it 5,000? Not sure anymore of how many. Perhaps something is missing due to the frequent flailing of fits called mania. Maybe I have too many pieces due to so many experts giving advice without a license. Maybe it’s just enough but all jumbled from the poles swinging like a tether ball on a playground. Wait! Hurry up and wait! I have to put this together or I won’t get to play again. It’s a picture of a ground with poles and laughter. It’s a place of competition and companionship. It’s a place that I see but I can’t find because of all the pieces. I have all the pieces but that’s the problem. The problem plays in front of me as the solution that refuses to come together. Together like a string, tethered to a ball, swinging from a pole, on my box.