Verrilion

People are much like a glass harp,

all together there is harmony,

each glass containing a voice of its own,

powerful in its tiny form,

vibrating against the table,

however push one off the edge,

and there's a note missing.

If you look at it as the whole organ,

that single glass can be replaced,

one shattered cup makes no difference to the others,

the rest will still sing.

Now, look closer to the cups individually.

One would think a small cup,

that can sing so brilliantly would have some resistance,

however it holds a fragility.  

That one fragmented cup remains on the floor,

gazing sorrowfully from the dusty tiles,

with its guts scattered and its aspirations gone,

in which one must gather all the pieces.

There is a choice here most usually neglect,

one can glue the shards together,

or dump it all into the trash bin,

most deem a broken glass useless. 

Now, in the point of view of this hapless glass,

being placed into a trash bin is the lowest of the low,

it believes it is at the worst of it's misery,

however, it hasn't seen the trash dump yet.

No, the little cup has not a clue of how great wretchedness can be.

There is a point of no return for everyone,

a shattered glass can be glued, recycled, reformed,

most though don't have the courage to pull through,

humans are scared to see the bottomless pit,

as there is no guarantee of a safe return.

The pitiable glass travels far from its home,

plunged into a world it has never know,

where it may remain with the broken pieces of its shattered soul,

or with the help of others, or will power alone,

rise and reform to a beautiful glass figurine hardly seen before.