If I had a heart in my hands
One not made of flesh
If I carried it all the minutes of every day
And it was made of friable stuff
If I stumbled in a careless way
And it slipped before my eyes
If it fell to the hardened ground
And smashed into a billion atom bits
If the fractured shards were
Myriad made in a smear of salty tears
If I had no one but me blameworthy
Because it was only me around
If this was the case
Then I can’t look behind me
With accusations tumbling from my lips.
If I had the chance to glue, piece by piece
It back into a heart-shaped thing
If each tiny silver sliver was slotted into place
To once more catch the noiseless light
If I took a thousand years
And made my fingers bleed
If I once more held it up
And it had glinting form
If this repair was done in the dry dock of my hands
Would it still be a flawless gem?
If this repair is painfully gained
Does the time and care infuse the fault
With a lustre of perfection?
If all I see is the spinning binary pulse
If all I have is a sparking
Einstein-Rosen Bridge
If all around me is a sea of foaming mediocrity
If nothing else is worth my time
Then surely repairing this shattered glass is
The worthwhile work of every second
Of this remaining life