piece based on an older poem

What was once whole, now broken. Remnants of what breathed prior, shattered, slipping between ones fingers. Only a forge could mend what's been done. Alas, the chariot carried the day to a close. No fire to kindle the blacksmith's fervor, his hammer left on the anvil, while he gently slumbers. The night follows, hiding the shards like memories left to be recollected.

As the darkness enveloped the sky, sounds that once filled streets fell silent, wildlife present but oh so quiet. As lights illuminated homes, trading places with day, dusk saturated the space left as the children scuttled away.

Nature being the only witness, the pieces reflected what struck the surface. Refracting in every direction, a different look at every angle. Enough to lose sight of whether it was the floor or ceiling. Fragments changing as quickly as the planet spun, even the stars could only take a glance before the shimmer was gone.

Waiting to be reforged or crushed back to sand.

Sparkling under the moonlight.

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https://www.kuzaemon.com/2025/02/glass.html

Fragmented but precious

Unique yet incomplete,

once whole but no longer—

was it whole at all?

Yet the same, yet different,

glass was once sand,

crushed finely back to sand.

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My immediate thought is that this is an OSHA violation and a lawsuit waiting to happen. 

Perhaps that's ruining what I wrote.

No matter, just mindless chatter.

Perish the thought.