meaning behind the mess

Glistening glass in a thousand bits
scattered across the road
Puzzle pieces that can't refit
the car they once did mold.


Scattered branches point the way
across a wooded ground
Like broken bones of yesterday
to follow, lost or found.


All the lines across your hand
and every little scar
Has a meaning, small or grand
to show me who you are.


Tears and cuts and fingerprints
the jumbled, tangled bits
Lord just make it all make sense
past every match of wits.


Past every part of who we are
and what we want to do
Let pieces, like a sky of stars
all point the way to You.