“A Mess”

We are a mess.
Not the kind you find in a kitchen
After a hastily prepared meal.
But a wonderful
Felix Culpa,
‘happy fault.’

We’re the type of mess
Occurring when paint meets brush.
When what was meant to be an exercise in formal technique
Turns into an abstract rendering
A work of aesthetics that only God could properly frame.

You and me,
We’re a mess that’s easy to mistake for chaos.
Like the explosive pressure needed to bring forth a diamond
It’s tedious,
Yet the yield is wholly worth the hours of precision.

The exhilaration of too loud music,
Its beat rippling through your chest.
The confusion and disorder until you decide to just go with the flow and let your body be carried by the melody.

Tangible and comforting,
This mess leaves me wondering at the possibilities of exploring beauty found in unlikely places.

May we seek and find those hidden treasures in life.

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