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