Often buried beneath alluring jewels

Off to the side, a solitary fissure in its frame

Just as precious, yet in a simpler way-

For her crystals of value are adorned within

 

Her displeasing covering is an unwilling pretense;

Not knowing how to breach it

She hides, her joy altered to despair.

Dare she be broken to share her delightful light?

 

Small and simple things are her craft-

Soften the rough edge of stone,

Polish and cultivate tender thoughts,

And wear away the nature of dismay.

 

Yet the meek desires to break free;

To embroider her modest exterior

With color, brilliance, and vibrancy

To radiate in exclamation, "Here am I!"

 

But lo, odds of detection are inconsequential

For who would accept the meager offering

Of the excluded and humble reserves,

Considered as being deficient of obvious refinement?

 

Awakening if but for a single moment,

The geode's single crack gleams amongst gems,

Only to sink beneath waves of indifference-

Yearning to share the splendor contained within.