My Fit

There is a puzzle
Of which I am a part
Jigsaw like
And pieces as they are so created
Either fit just so
Congruent, compatible, matching
Or not at all
Edges rough, unyielding, un-abiding
And child-like I have tried sometimes
To make my fit
To force the edges to obey my will, my way
Even though I do also know the parts and portions
Sometimes morph organically, magically
Given time
And what once did not match or suit
Now work with ease
Edges complimenting edges seamlessly
Growing so in ways unforced
In ways that seem to play out perfectly
Naturally
Peacefully.