Put it back.

That thing you got

Is a seed of the Sun.

Put it back

In the crack

You took it from.

That thing you hold

Is shivering for the cold,

It’s too heavy to be handled.

Too precious to be sold.

That thing you got

Is the blown kiss

Of a forgotten star.

And not to be lost,

Has it traveled this far.

That thing you’ve got

Is a fragment of God;

Salvation is the act

Of returning to the mud.