Stephen Roberts - Kintsukuroi

Turn the earth for clay
Which hands are moved to mould
We form an unassuming bowl
And hope that it will hold

Heat will cure and harden
Though thin and fragile, real
White ceramic from the kiln
Cooled to smoothest feel

But earth returns to earth
As to it duty bound
Fault lines fracture open
When our bowl meets the ground

With precious scars of gold
We mend to heightened grace
More solid now than ever were
Pieces held in golden lace

-

Complex grows our weave
With each sucessive splint
Until no clay remains to dull
Our vessel's faultless glint

Perfect to admire
But lost are hopes to fill
When souls are sealed within a shape
That cannot change with will

Stephen Roberts

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kintsukuroi-3/