Gold Chain

by Miriam Hurdle

VanessasLocket

Hidden in the rocks, its value

Waits to be found.

Digging, hitting, pounding.

Comes above the ground.

What does it want to be?

It doesn’t know.

Master’s Mind has decided,

Before it’s assigned.

Through furnace it must go,

Breaking, burning, melting.

Fluid now it presents.

It must lose the self;

A ring on the finger,

A pendant on the chain,

Becoming.

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