Another nice poem

I have no idea who wrote this. Troy forwarded this to me like three years ago.

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You pointed to a crack
Where my heart failed to see,
Busy as I am, convinced, that my hands
Are molding the clay with which to fill the
Long-standing tear in my being.

I know not how to mend this,
To stop this vast ocean
wracked by swirling anger beneath
from drying through your eyes, while the sunset
lurks around your unreachable iris.

I see the crack, now, with my hands reaching
Across the distance and silence.
I see with the eyes of a fly, swatted
by the magnitude of the spectacle, looking as I am
With the scattered pieces of my being.

Now I have minted the crack in my heart,
Oblivious of what it means, but it's future meaning
for now, it seems, the crack is all I am,
the pieces exploding with the drying
Of your ocean.

I lift my head, squinting beyond the darkness
For a scent and an angel, a voice and a face.
time is the anguish in my heart.
The world is on the brink of implosion,
Shrunk to the memory of a painful conversation.

This is my doing, yet I couldn’t mend it alone;
I know not the tune of the plea
That would avail me your pity.
i see now, I understand how.
This I hold in my grimy hands to offer.

I have lost my temple and my feet
bleeds from walking the distance
paved with shiny invectives. All around
I look for someone calling me. Me whom
I can’t bear to recognize til it’s you I see