the statue of theseus in poetry

how many times must we
bust ourselves into pieces
refilling the scars with gold
like that japanese pottery
until we are instead
a perfect golden image
of who we used to be
and a pile of dust
on the floor below

could we actually
survive such a process
and if we ever could
would we be the gold
or would we instead
just be the dust
with an idol
taking all
the credit