Thousands of days, years and tears consumate the existance of such a gem.
A gem that can sleep or shine so heavenly in your canvased world like a star.
Because, denials in their rhetoric, what you see is your canvas.
As I am nothing to anyone else but a lump of carbon.
But to you...and the soul that shape shifts the world to suite yourself.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine days, years and tears left to truely create such a gem.
I am left here, thinking in my soil, heat and pressure why I am the last of my kind.
Wait, I'm not.
I am not guarenteed the end.
Though I sit here as far from your sky...
..As my untangable potential laughs at me in your hopeful eyes.

I can imagine you, sitting atop the mound of earth, miles above.
You think you have your diamond, but there you are, idle.
You are already The Hope, waiting for me to join you in the reflection of colors.
But while you humor my existance your facets catch hold of some rainbow display.
Much more attractive then my enchantment of dirt are the fiery opals and rubys.
The ones attracted to that glowing essence and they litter the dirt above.
Ever so the days and years and tears that have hounded your spirit.

I have not a single sight or natural sensation that can prove this...
I'm dull and blind in the dark, miles from you.
But I feel it through the tiniest of vibrations sent from above.
Your's resound straight to my core...they are the additives to my potential.
Patience, pressure and heat.
They are the delusion of light I have in Hell. The middle earth path to Heaven.

Patience...patience to the dirty rock that tenaciously begs for your company.
As I sit below, crowded, the pressure builds around.
The ressonance is strongest with the pressure to pinpoint my stubborn location under your feet.
This is how I hear, see and observe my idolitor above...
And like the many times I have been pinned below you, I'm rigid with the immobility...
..try as I might, to get you to move.
The struggle through intense pressure is not always a struggle against your briliance.
That is the light of reflection, that tells me to form anew for the one above.

As any Hell, there is heat.
From the pressure I feel the itch of movement, and this creates friction.
It'll either add to the pressure or add to the heat.
REgardless, here follows the tears that water the ground.
Slight is the chance that the tears soften my constant aggitator's grimy blows.
But they always do, despite the physics.
This is where the star-shine comes from.
You, my idolitor of coal, make stars shine.

More jewels are privvy to this knowledge as they see your shine.
Unlike them, I am floating under your feet, gratefully after all these years.
With limited foresight and no guarentees, I take the vibrations I can.
This feeds more pressure and thus more heat, wishful for rapid change.
I wish for the earth to spit me out at these moments.
The most crushing pressure is the one that's mental. I try for faith.
Faith in you and faith in my preceeding future with you.

I imagine you and there born is a new, more gentle, heat.
Earth sliding around me like cushions in the dream of you.
Each grain like the skin on your hands, so velvet on me after all the pressure.
An occasional rapture spirals me lower below but in transcendance.
Every spasm born from your gentle fire takes me deeper till there is no earth left to sift through.

I wait for the final thrust of warmth to signal the new.
Hardened by the pressures, softened by the warmth.
The mana will send me away into the voids of space, where I hope my star-shine catches your eyes.
Cause one star in the sky is a sad vision.
Her essential creator on the earth in bedazzlement by the fiery bright allure of more common love.
For it takes days, years and tears to create a diamond, I was told.

Hopefully this coal you planted so long ago blossoms a star.
Regardless of the size, as long as it shines with you for more days, years and tears.
For the canvas of the sky is limitless, but let us paint through it with our glow.

I give The Hope my love. Shine for him, dear body and mind.

This was written in the throws of love, years ago. I was at a point emotionally charged to express my desire to exceed expectations and cultivate a style of written word to help reflect that. I liked it. Felt kinda gritty and sensual. ^_^ Ah, memories...