He embraced the heart. He kissed it.
He lifted it high and said he loved it.
So it blossomed. It shined sublime.
It learnt (unwisely) to disregard Time.

He caressed it with his love-song.
It vainly chose not to judge Right from Wrong.
It throbbed wildly on hearing just his name.
So, then, it had none but itself to blame.

When he hurled it up in the air,
It preened under Love’s uncorrupted stare.
But relevant needs consume Love –
A fact it forgot in the glare above.

His hand beneath left to hold Life,
And the heart made its descent into strife.
Like a damned soul condemned to Hell,
Seeing no Saviour, sobbed, as it fell.

But Hell has fire to break a fall;
The place where it fell had nothing at all:
Just a chaotic world of Art,
Which now has pieces of a broken heart.