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...