A stone on a glacier cannot be broken by cold alone. 

The ineffective sun soars over it each day,

And the stars wheel over it each night.

But it is solitary, gelid.

Water frozen in its crevices stays

as it is

minute to eon,

world without end, amen.

It can stare down the long corridor of time and not

flinch.

But warm it;

let the ice shrink as it melts,

leave it basking, hopeful.

Let sultry water play over it, as soft as love,

and soak into all its tiny faults.

Remove the warmth, and the water then

freezes,

expands. 

The faults magnify.

And the stone begins to slowly fracture.

It cracks, crumbles,

a bit more each time it is warmed and cooled,

Until it shatters like a glass heart.