If you think about it—your pecious mind
is a lot
like a diamond—terse,
sharp,
fiercepointed, and
clear—and lustrous,
the way it
elicits
such spectacle—
from its array of multiple
interdependent planes conjoining;
although—if you think about
it further—only
in the presence
of light
does that happen—and again;
only
after considerable effort
on behalf
of a
certain
well-paid artifacer—
who sits there
and does this sort
of thing,
over and
over again,
all day—for a living.
