Once Upon a Glass Artefact

It was a usual day,
Morning brought the cuckoo call
And your temple broke itself

For a while, it made me think
How far you had walked for this thing
How many hours it took you to bring this home
To you, to me, to us
And then I reminded myself it was glass, just
Fragile, weakened, cracked glass
The tiny flower vase placed inside could hardly fit a feather
And time takes a toll on all things
All things take to rust and weather
It’s alright! Things happen for the better,
So I didn’t even try to mend it
I gathered the broken pieces instead
Resisting the sharp edges, dreading the deep cuts
I swept aside all pieces to a blind corner
I let it fade into common dust.

For a while I escaped it’s wanton care
The empty space was filled by another pair
Only it wasn’t glass ;
Wood seemed a better fit.
Dry dead wood carved out of a dead tree
Nothing could break it, dead as it was already
After a week it freshly doomed upon me,
How wood doesn’t shine, doesn’t catch light
How dry, sore and monotone remained it’s cover
It slowly doomed upon me how I missed the reflection of that glass:
The play of lights, the edges that cut sharp
The trill in its layers, the sound of a harp
All tethered into one
By now it seemed,
I had taken to artificial artefacts
Shiny, broken and undone.