I am splintered. I've lived through
many cold, dark winters. I’m shattered
into bits. Some of my chips
have turned to dust/swept up

in a storm. Thrown out to sea
in a kaleidoscope of blue and
green. I'm a broken mirror. I can't see
clearer through the cracks. I've stopped
counting all the hacks. Hold your hands

into a cup. Build my shattered pieces
up. They'll shine into a swirling mosaic, like
a painting Da Vinci created. Blood red and orange
makes the sonance. I'm a million misshaped

parts that can turn into a work
of art in gifted hands that sees every piece
as a pearl. And strands a golden chain
through the holes. But does not claim it as his own.