You are;
My war, my peace
My golden fleece;
No ocean could keep me away from you
Nor Jason and all his retinue –
And I am as nothing to you…
But I am precious too.

You are;
The Basilisk’s stare,
Medusa’s hair
The very sight of you turns me to stone
Petrified, speechless, mouth dry as a bone –
And I am as nothing to you
Yet I am precious too.

You are;
The pearl of great worth
The field rich with treasure
I’d trade all the earth
To serve at your pleasure –
Yet I am nothing to you…
But I am precious too.

You;
Fly with the archangels
Shine like the Arkenstone
You would bathe in milk and honey
But my riches are not money –
My words shine and shimmer
Like ink from Midas’ fingers
If fifteen men tried to wrench you from my breast
There’d be fifteen men on a dead man’s chest…
I’d give you a song from King Solomon’s mind
And all the jewels in King Solomon’s mines…

Still, I am as nothing to you.

Yet I am precious too.

  • Ishmael Mitishamba

    well said. would like to know who it is that sees nothing in the midst of bounty.