The Crystal Jar


The Cold
Crept out of his crystal jar
Leaving it's sparkling beauty behind,
To find a warmth
It could not provide.

A flame caught his gaze
So pure, so irresistible
He could not escape

Emotion of shock.
Shattered from seven directions
By daggers of feeling.
Six for the real
One for the mind

And he laughed at the irony
That the crystal had sheltered glass.
Ah, but the warmth of the daggers...!        /)ark Poet  [AssaulT] '93
