Challenge
"The gem cannot be polished without friction" (Seneca)
"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift." (Mary Oliver) Poetry, please.
Shielded spring.
Gem stones in the palm of my hand,leaves me wanting more.
More of the jagged edges,to shape and contort.
Contort and contain the broken pieces that fall into shape.
Shape-shifting into diadems that sparkle on crimson crests.
Crests weaving into floral designs that mount on wings.
Wings that soar through dark clouds into opulent sunlight.