Slivers of a Shattered Looking Glass

I have to admit that while writing these poems they seemed random and incomplete, almost meaningless. They were like tiny pieces of a broken mirror randomly scattered across the floor. They were ever so small but their images got under my skin and stuck with me like slivers. They appeared chaotic and out of place until I remembered that they were once part of a greater whole, a unity. And even though they seemed completely haphazard, they reflected brightly in my imagination. Given enough pieces you may interpolate an eternal unity. Depression begins when we lose our sense of unity and see ourselves as isolated, separate creatures. What could be more hopeless, helpless and meaningless than thinking that we are a mortal body that breathes and walks upright for a while but is ultimately condemned to dissolution and decay?