it's only three feet and two inches from falling,
crashing into a million bleeding pieces,
holding momentary glimmers of tungsten
and shimmers of electric wealth.

it lay there, placed just hours ago,
maybe by the hands of a mind
with these thoughts contained therein.

or maybe it lay placed by the hands
of a mind that could not restrain itself from
flying away with that fluttering cardinal, outside
the window, bouncing from tree to tree.

with either if-so, omnipresent is the hand
and the crystal that lay still, just on the edge,
three feet from whole and no longer still.