It’s a small thing,
The breaking of a heart,
Yet I harp on it,
Like a wailing banshee.

Storms rise in the seas,
Tearing ships apart,
Lifting krakens
From the deep.
This breaking is
Nothing.

Volcanoes spew flames,
Engulfing whole cities.
Wars descend into chaos,
Children die by bullets.
Yet my heart
Will not understand.
Perspective is not its forté.

My mind knows nature,
Devastating in the wild
And in human culture.
So it knows the heart.
But the mind
Can never fathom
What it takes
To be antimatter.