waxing poetic at three am

I've spent thousands and wandered miles for a few forevers in an attempt to "find myself." From across an ocean, all I've really "found" is that my heart is a cruel backwards scavenger hunt. I leave bits of it everywhere I go and "find" myself in the empty, gaping puzzle piece places left by this place or that. I've strewn myself across oceans and continents and left tufts and flakes of self in lakes, rivers, and seas. The art of "finding," I'm slowly coming to realize, isn't merely acquiring. It's losing so one can acquire different, more, better, new, whole. Loss is gain and losing is finding
and becoming
and beautiful.