Picture an orb, a marble of glass

Place it upon the giants anvil,

The marble waits, unknowing of its fate

And then the hammer falls.

It strikes the marble a minor blow,

No visible cracks or marks to show,

The marble survived, it did not mind,

And then the hammer falls.

Falls, falls, falls, falls

An endless torrent of blows

The marble still there, still shining, still surviving,

And then the hammer falls.

A ring and a snap, a crack appears,

Marked, still whole, a twist of fate,

A turn of phrase, a lost laugh,

And then the hammer falls.

The crack widens, spreads,

Becomes a feature, a trait,

A sense of humor, a blank gaze

And then the hammer falls.

The marble breaks.

But it's fine, it can pull itself back together,

Do it quick and no one will see,

It's just the same marble, a little smaller, a little more opaque,

And then the hammer falls.

Broken again,

Patched again,

Hidden again,

And then the hammer falls.

The marbles stuck, no longer round,

But maybe it wasn't meant to roll,

Perhaps it is fine right here, a monument to its past,

And then the hammer falls.

And then the hammer falls.

The marble is gone, broken to dust,

A haze in the air, a tear in an eye,

A forgotten laugh, an endless cry