It is just a collection of scarred pieces
Somebody's yesterday's future
And we are working into tomorrow 
To rebuild 
That which was started a million yesterdays ago
Suffering the marks of life,
But salvaged
Worn and weathered by love
Even back then...
It is older than itself, older than each bit
that makes up its whole
But held onto and held dear over time.

How humbling to unearth its origins
Dissect and understand its guts
Once labored over by great men

Together we are
Assembling each
Scrap of nothing
As if they were a part 
Of Frankenstein's patchwork monster

We are but children
In comparison to its age
And the careworn wisdom
It seems to keep in its silent antiquity,
Its sometimes neglected past
Carefully and solemnly considered and made up for

Heads bowed in concentration 
We gift it with metaphorical daisies
That will not easily wilt,
Preserving and honoring its beauty and long life,
Begun at a time when the world
Could not easily be captured in color.

Together we become
A breathing part of history,
Now tomorrow's future
Having discovered its many mysteries,
Some coarse and uncomfortable
some colorful and beautiful.

Only someone who has stopped to understand 
the roughly sewn stitches
and can appreciate the thing
for where it began
And where it has been
Can piece it back together
With a sense of wonder
And excitement 
At its beautiful potential 

How astounding to breathe life
To reveal and repair
Something so unassuming 
But preciously beautiful,
Witnesses to so many memories
Long past,
Long forgotten,
All the while creating our own.