Broken lives,
flotsam on the shore
sought out, gathered,
dried out, mended...
like found art, the best,
the closest to real art
set out, lovely to look at,
not copies but real art,
the hard edges rounded,
ugly courseness softened.
The new creation, crafted
from detritus becomes
whole, perfect, masterpieces
not through self, not through will.
From broken lives beauty,
serenity, recovery.
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