Picking up after yourself

Act by act,
thought by thought,
We begin to paint a picture—
but leave behind a puzzle.

A jigsaw with missing pieces:
some pieces scattered across pictures,
some lost along the way,
some turned upside down.

Someone comes behind us,
Picking up these pieces
Not knowing where they fit in
Asking if we know their origin

We walk forward
refusing to pick them up
These are not our pieces, we say,
They are orphans who've lost their way

Yet the pieces follow us,
attracted to their mother like a child
Looking for a home, a slot,
for the void they were meant to fill in