The stone shines with glimmers of the brighest light.
It's many sides show colors of the rainbow unfettered
by constraints. Happy in its zest of difference yet
steadfastly its held by the prongs willed by the masses.
Only to show one side its Held tight by tradition.
So the diamond fades, dulled by judgment.
But remembering it was once in the rough, hidden from the many
cuts froms the blades of life. The diamond accepts its shape and
remembers it's beauty came from within.
Although shaped by the hearded sheep masses.
The stone recalls, it's my essence that makes me bright.
So the rock shines in its own way, gleaming with its many colors.
Discaused, without the stone, there would be no
need for prongs.

Randall L. Poole