Bullet Holes

Some of the best plans
Still have bullet holes
In their well-crafted layers,
The lines destined to fray
And threads that couldn't bear
The weight of execution.
Yet, somehow,
Sunlight finds its way,
Shining through
The tattered remnants
Of our outlines
And intentions.

We aim for rivers
Of flawless precision,
Untainted maps,
To navigate
These treacherous terrains
Unscathed.
But beyond
Splintered expectations
And debris,
Hopeful rays seep
Through the cracks,
Reminding us
Of the beauty born
From imperfections.

Invisible bullets
Pierce the armor
Of our ambitions,
Yet in the wreckage,
Vulnerability emerges,
Steadfast.
Navigating these exit wounds,
We discover new paths,
Refracted light illuminating
The hidden possibilities,
As scars transform
Into beacons
Of resilience.

We thought meticulous plans
Possessed immunity,
That destiny
Could be contained
Within our parameters.
But life,
Relentless
And unforgiving,
Laughs at our certainty,
Leaving behind
Bullet holes
As eternal reminders
That surrendering to chaos
Can birth unforeseen
Radiance.

In the aftermath
Of shattered dreams
And missteps,
Sunlight weaves through
The apertures,
Unyielding.
We stand in the presence
Of fractures turned holy,
Embracing the dance
Of brilliance and shadows,
Because it's here,
In the flawed tapestry,
That magic flares.

And so,
We learn to adore the scars,
The imperfections,
Because they tell stories
Of battles fought
And passions pursued.
Through the holes,
Sunbeams kiss the ground,
Like blessings,
Whispering echoes
Of resilience and fortitude,
That even wounds
Can be adorned
With golden light.

Some of the best plans
Still bear bullet holes,
And amidst the ruins,
Grace gracefully arrives.
It's in these cracks,
In the vulnerability we expose,
That's where sunlight
Can weave its magic,
Alive,
Turning shattered dreams
Into a masterpiece
Foretold.