Turning Rough Precious Stones into Brilliant Gems

Turning Rough Precious Stones into Brilliant Gems Sadly, mine gaze may never penetrate thine, Contact too brief, limited; yet so divine. Warm words caress, an innuendo can entrance, Esoteric contact a touch, all setting lifelessness aquiver. Turmoil, anguish, attachment, need, desire. A moth drawn to the inviting glow of a consuming fire. Opposites attract, kindred spirits enhance, What tricks designed by the Master web weaver. Where does one end and the other begin? What melodrama have we trapped ourselves in? Given a life time to search, yet only meeting by chance, Silence itself is oft the ultimate deceiver.

With eyes closed wide, sight is limited,

Mindless yearnings all but mutated.

Time to be bold, to take a stance,

Find what this life has to deliver.

Boldness abounds when there's nothing at stake,

Vanishes as confrontation illuminates possibility of mistake.

But, what if, the if 's are right perchance,

Unasked questions heard as a cold shiver.

As inevitable as the foreboding rain,

Each drop of hope can drive one insane.

Can all this be but the result of mere happenstance,

Helpless as a cherub reaching into an empty quiver.


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