Incomplete

The puzzle and the pieces were always sticking together.  The puzzle always knew that every missing piece was important to complete it.  The pieces were lost. They were lost, drunk on the board of exploring the horizons. The puzzle wanted to keep them safe but they just had to see the world. 

Among all those pieces, was a piece the puzzle always thought about. It was naive, cold, cruel, arrogant, adamant, but there was good in it, and yes, the puzzle needed it to complete itself. 

The piece wanted to go out, see the world, thought that the puzzle is just being a wuss and a hurdle in its life. There would be better puzzles out there whom I can complete. Those puzzles would be more worthy. 

They were. They were bigger. More worthy. So the piece enjoyed with the other puzzles it met, but as soon as it came to fitting in their lives, it couldn't. It just couldn't. 

The puzzle went away from tried to get some other piece in place of it but even the puzzle wasn't able to fit any other piece. 

The pattern, the shape of the hollow space, the very cavity was in need of that one piece only. 

The piece was still rogue enough to not return to the puzzle ever. The puzzle couldn't help but wait and wait.  Both were complete everywhere but incomplete somewhere. 

One can always choose what one wishes to be. 

You could be the fire one needs to light his or her cigarette. 

Or you could be the sun that brings light and warmth to the one who deserves.