Unassailable Purity
I am not an angel, I know; I am a frail being.
Feeble, frangible, brittle, and breakable; self-fleeing
Like a glass or like a bone china vessel, breakable
Weakness has taken hold of me with strength unshakable
A tinge of innocence, yet, embedded by the divine
Is still sticking into the cores of my inner shrine...
Like an age-old yew surviving any weird wild weather
With leaves and fruits resembling rainbow-hued peacock feather
Like an antique rock holding itself tight under the earth
From the moment, as a pebble, it had taken its birth
This pristine purity sticks to me like a chroma.
Of a florally farm-fresh, inerasable aroma...
My thoughts, words, and deeds flow from this flawless, crystal-clear stream.
In forms of love and truth in day-to-day life, this does gleam.
Jasmine! Lavender! Pure white tulip, lotus, or lily
Nothing could ever comprehend this purity fully
I wear it. This wears me, rather. This is my existence.
Without this gem nothing in this wide world makes any sense...
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