Puzzle

How long have you been searching for the final piece?
And how many times have you attempted to force the fit?
Take a look at your hand.
See the piece it holds?
Guess what?
It’s not the right one either.
You think you know what you want and you’ve convinced yourself that it’s right.
So why are you still alone?
Why does that hole still beckon, taunting you with its emptiness, mocking you with its uneven edges that reject your every endeavor?
Your eyes and ears are open but you refuse to hear or see.
Listen to me!
I understand your stubbornness—it is a malady from which I too suffer
And therefore I can appreciate it.
But the piece you hold does not fit.
Turn it left, turn it right, upside down and on its side.
Your tenacity falls short.
So leave it.
See it for what it is:
Extra weight that only drags you down and holds you back and prevents you from seeking that which you lack.
A polygonal shape that has no known name—such is what you seek.
Not a circle that will roll contentedly behind you, nor a square that will bend to your will.
You’ve tried those all before.
Yet what do I know?
Who knows better what you need than you?
But you do not want what you think you need and what you need is not what you think you want.
If you did, you wouldn’t be holding this piece, just another in a long line of pieces, trying desperately to fit it to your form.
And you wouldn’t be hating me.