In darkness of soul the clock ticks
for not the hour, a woman now picks
A gem of brilliant countanance and grace
That bathes her bare body and pure face.
That gem, of all gems, slowly grows bigger
Flooding the room of darkness and lost figure
A hand arises out of the crystaline surface
To warm and caress her heart with purpose.
An ideal in life, she has finally found,
Direction, fulfillment, hope and joy.
Yet, before you are made merry, let me expose this ploy.
For what she found was not a comfort at all,
For in time the light blinded and caused her fall.
She cursed the gem, and bit the hand of Saul,
And strangely, though, the hand was not hard.
The icy hand, was a serpent underneath --
Deception, crime -- masquerading bard
That pierced in violence with razor teeth.
She gripped the large stone, and hurled it down
Writhing in the pain from loosing this clown
That had bored its teeth in reptillian manner
And caused her grief under deception's banner.
A hand from the clouds then appeared
Out reached and open it beckond her touch.
With hesitation and caution she approached with face teared,
Remembering her mistake of wanting too much.
A voice spoke, sounding like flowing water.
She drank the words, the logic, the logos.
And learned she did, with awe and laughter
The depth of Truth that filled the cosmos.
A robe was given her that flowed over her cool skin;
Heavenly white linen covering divine form.
Enraptured in warmth, caressed by beauty's lifted chin
She tasted, found it to be good, now no longer forlorn.
Lifted high into eternity she flew with her companion
In his embrace she felt free and strong
Singing with the power of an angel a new song.
This poem is one of many published by the EServer, a nonprofit collective.