In the gloom corner of a room a box resides.
Free to all, although no one dare peak inside.
A lone, beautiful, brown, leather outer casing,
With a black lid that hides the inner makings.
Chains on the bright box kept together by a lock,
And, just like Prometheus, is strapped to a rock.
But, the box can easily be prodded open
By a simple hello, conversation opens.
Inside the box: colors of all tone and contrast.
They pour out like rainbows to light up my life’s path.
Images formed by the box’s light create shape
Of a destiny I am willing to embrace.
An aura around the box of warm vibes exist.
Only seeking to fill on lookers with much bliss.
To mix harmony amongst life’s fragility.
Showing love as to extinguish hostility.
But, to let such a box free builds much fear in me.
What if they believe my box to be quite boring?
Maybe it’s not needed, like extra or excess.
Thoughts of it being disposed offer me no rest.
Will my box be understood as evil or good?
Insecurities secure the box to rock’s foot.
Faith, sometimes, provides me the strength to set it free.
Yet fear, at times, causes my box to flee to me.
I should just open my box. What is my true fear?
I’ll never know as long as I stay bounded here.