The Jewel was a prize beyond beauty,
Overcoming all which came before,
One which wanted all,
No companions in the jewelry box, before or after.
It resided in an open case for all to see,
Seemingly wanting little but needing display to prove its ownership,
and the fealty of head of clan.
For decades it shone,
making admirers more admiring by the minute,
Gradually darkened other parts of the room,
Until the owner moved into the shadows,
Hard to make out,
And eventually… unseen.
In this darkness a truth revealed, inspiration unknown,
but not divine,
the Jewel was not precious.
But man made after all.
Erased by Michael Cunningham