The Entire Journey

the seam remembers

before the break,

we thought we were whole.

unbroken.

complete.

maybe even finished.

but wholeness was

a story we told

to avoid the truth

of all things made.

because all things made

break.

and when they do,

we are given a choice:

to discard

or to witness.

to hide the fracture

or to trace it.

⸻

gathering the shards

there is a moment when

the hands begin again—

gathering what shattered

not with shame

but with care.

every fragment is

a memory.

every curve, a song

waiting to be

re-sung.

dhātu begins here—

not in the polished surface,

but in the raw edge

that still hums

with heat.

⸻

joining the elements

gold is not a fix.

gold is a reveal.

it says:

this is where it hurt.

this is where it held.

this is where it changed.

the line does not hide

the break.

it composes it.

not erasure—

but invocation.

not cover-up—

but incantation.

⸻

the vessel sings again

when the piece returns

to its body,

it is not what it was.

but it is

what it became.

and that is

a deeper kind of

wholeness.

a kind that knows

what it cost

to stay.

dhātu sings here—

in the resonant fracture,

the golden seam,

the place where form

and feeling

meet.

⸻

we are kintsugi, too

we were never meant

to remain unbroken.

we were meant

to become

beautifully joined.

to trace our own

wounds with light.

to be vessels

that remember

by the shape

of our seams.

and to offer

our music

not from perfection

but from the place

where we were

remade.

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