Sunday, July 25, 2010
The tarnished necklace lies on a dark pillow,
magical, intricate craftsmanship now shattered and hollow.
On the pillow it writes its story,
Of hope and joy and never ending glory.
What struggle each pearl dying made,
For each one was born of dirt caught in the oyster shell.
Deep in the oceans lap,
The pearl evolved with the lashes claps.
Throttled freedom, fished out,
The princesses jewel in pride shroud.
The waves laughed,mocked the pearl,
But on pretentious back, boastfully the pearl itself revered.
Knocking off the oceans in glee,
The pearl thought it feared departure, mere jealousy.
Illusions cast of chandelier and gold,
Satin carpets,glistening thrones.
Fashioned proud the princesses trinket,
Always near, good and fortunate.
Scheming and plotting the queens death,
The princess failed, cursed this amulet.
Fury broke the magic weaved,
The pearl on the pillow, recalls the lashes laughing in mystery.
“Pride makes us artificial and humility makes us real”
The pearl, lone aimless,fretting in tear.
Posted by devangini at 10:31 AM