Self Worth Poem by Mark Heathcote

I have an incurable heart.
It gathers in the dark.
Starlight music, like a musical harp,
And shingles on a beach
All the sounds and rhythms
You thought, were far out of reach.
I have an irredeemable soul.
It can't be purchased or sold.
Yet, isn't its value like 24ct gold?
Banked in a vault worth
More than its confines can hold.
More than the limitations of an ever,
An expanding universe can safely compose.