We're All As The Wind On The Ether Poem by Mark Heathcote

Despite our trivial endeavours
Life isn't a broken key or a glass shard.
Turned to please; cut by millimetres
Nobody should overlook this gem.
To pawn, repay debtors.

Neither is it a charmed treasure, either.
That keeps just one warm,
We're all like the wind in the ether.
One terse word transforms:
Us into thunder, a hellish transceiver.

The heart isn't a turnstile you spin.
In the hope of making one man smile,
The soul isn't a flower you nurture.
Or own or disown or buttonhole pin-
In making a connecting merger.