Friday, July 23, 2010
A simple chest with no design
Strongly cut on basic line
Painted, finished, simply nice
But yet a lock will there suffice
What may hide within this box?
Not many have a need of locks.
What secrets wait within to find?
Yet whose they be might not be kind
Secrets borne, where stands the key?
And when it's found, maybe we'll see
An owner of the secret box
Who cared enough for simple locks.
But what's inside might dare to know
Things of which no faces show.
Hidden love, maybe a crime
It might hold disgusting slime
No one knows what's in this chest
But some will look with fervent zest
To find what may be anything
Unknown to all, thus secrets bring
Should the contents stay unknown?
Truth might hurt when it is shown
The age of truth is yet unfound
Discovery might change the sound
No one knows what truths are there
So I think I'll make it fair
And leave the chest alone for now
For contents truth might hurt, but how?
Is it worth the risk to see?
I do not know, and soon maybe
I will not have this fear of truth
Courage unspent while in my youth
As I sat on my bed, staring at my jewelry chest, I started to wonder at the simple lock there. I am forever grateful that for a time, my jewelry chest had a simple lock that prevented searching hands, but now I look back at my jewelry chest and think about this poem. If it was an outsider, it could be anything in that chest. It could be old, covered in dust, with secrets inside that no one should know. It could be just the jewelry that there actually is. Looking at the various possibilities in my head, I had to write, so write I did!