The Dead Heart

And here, mounted and displayed,
You see a human heart.
Once it beat and pulsated,
Pumping life through man;
Hand-crafted by the Creator,
It was red with love in life:
Notice how pale it has grown.
No, it did not die, it was not killed,
Another hand replaced that heart
With a block of ice;
Plucked it from a living breast one day.
You ask for reason?
It was too soft, failed to deny
Calls of love!
One sudden stroke,
It beat no more.
Come, let us walk further.