Kintsukuroi Poem by Ibn Ali

And every man who ever loved, loved her
Her frame was slight
Enough to stumble at a strong wind
Her words measured with sympathy
And outweighed her logic
Partook in her fair share of sin
But everyone who's feet touch ground is tarnished
And dirty rags can't clean dishes
They're both embroiled
A surgeon with a rusty blade carves sickness
The choice is made to part
Biased feelings favor hearts
But it just beats and skips
And in his confined room has no perception of impending fate
Here again, how did I get here again
The same mistakes were made
So life is bound to repeat itself
Feelings pertrude
Branches outstretched yearning for the distant
And in so doing, life fulfilled
A lofty deposit
And love repaid in instalments
The vendor measures distribution
And marks her every package with her name
We break the seal
And with dissatisfaction, return to sender
Knowing that once broken it can never be the same
Kintsukuroi
Gather the shattered pieces
Pour gold in the gaps to form and mould the frame
Secure the bowl so it no longer leaks
There should be function in beauty
Renewed life in its now golden veins
Noone escapes life without scars
Belly buttons, the first
These are happy scars but the last are often tragic
But the ones we bear inside are hardest healed