A Diamond

When thoughts of rocks,

come to play,

the mind is alluring,

easily left to sway

the doubts,

the indecisions,

the valued circumstance,

of shared precisions.

 

The cut of a diamond,

meant to draw blood,

perhaps never seen,

never heard,

yet known

by the fractured elements

of delight in an eye,

the beholder,

the judgment,

the reality of one,

becomes the circumstance

of another.

 

We stood inside a mini-mall

watched the world evolve,

we laughed

qualified are sanity

that lasts.

We knew our world

didn’t need the blood of a diamond,

for it is a world far beyond

the material norm.

 

Yet today, sitting in offices,

there seems aplenty,

of ignorance and entitlement.

 

The crush of a diamond,

the cut of a purity in glass,

the reality in the mirror,

won’t ever extinguish the glare.

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