The edges of a puzzle piece is the key that conveys where it fits. If as human, one is a puzzle piece that must discover its peripherals and then insert itself within the space where it helps bring the completion of the puzzle as a whole, how much difficult would this task be when prior to discovering one’s contours, one has been led to fear it? In his poem, “I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing,” Walt Whitman writes: I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing, All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches, Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous leaves of dark green, And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself, But I wonder’d how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone there without its friend near, for I knew I could not, And I broke off a twig with a certain number of leaves upon it, and twined around it a little moss, And brought it away, and I have placed it in sight in my room, It is not needed to remind me as of my own dea
