Anvil Sonnet Poem by C Richard Miles

Do you dare dash me on your anvil heart
So that my soul and structure are destroyed
And there is nothing left, a vacuous void
Where, hammered hard, each precious, crafted part
Is smashed to smithereens beneath each blow
Into such shapelessness, that I give in
Admitting that my whole was spoiled by sin
And reformation was the only way to go?
Or am I wrong and your fine craft and art
Will reconstruct me in a richer form
And forge anew that which was cruelly crushed
So I may stand remade and make a start
To make up for lost time, my heart wrought warm,
Until, at last, I crumble into dust?