It has not once left me alone, the stubborn beauty,
It has called to me to be at last solved,
But I had left its secrets alone, the unknown pattern,
Colors telling stories left running around my head,
Every fragment remaining present at my side,
I've been left no choice but to learn the cube.
Subtlety not a strength of the cube,
It flashes its routine as a show of beauty,
A rotation giving some new meaning on every side,
It screams to me to be done and solved,
I cannot resist the call as it echos in my head,
As I am inclined to find the natural pattern.
It is not talent that I decode these patterns,
Wisdom pours from the pieces of the cube,
Strength to body, to my soul and head,
Until at last I can interpret that stubborn beauty,
New puzzles presented, new puzzles solved,
It remains with me ever at my side.
Others have put it from their side,
Trampled or mocked the power of pattern,
Convince their being that in their hands it can't be solved,
They self trap in the confines of the cube
Every aspect of both simple and dense beauty,
Lock and seal and throw away the key of their head.
Shame to me if trapped ever is my head,
With only ignorant misery to ever be at my side,
Gray-scale and dull would I find natural beauty,
Confusion certain to hold even with simple pattern,
Never would comprehension visit the cube,
Ever distant the problems from solved.
Joy to the heart that you may be solved,
Enlightenment to minds you posses our heads,
Wonderful truth in so small a cube,
Do not ever leave me, stay at my side
And whisper closely all your practical patterns,
Thank you for being such stubborn, stubborn beauty.
The pattern of the cube,
Can only be solved on every side,
If the beauty is in my head.