Blinding light makes me shield my eyes. Brighter than Buzz Lightyear’s laser to a 5-year-old toy. With eyes shut and hand raised, I can still see the brightness through the darkness. I know it’s there. I smell the dampness of the cave. And hear the occasional falling pebble, water trickling somewhere. Everything echoed, slightly amplified and reverberant. I reach out and grasp at the walls feeling my way by jutted rock. Eyes still closed, I don’t dare look. Because this diamond is cursed. Feeling my heart like a teenage rebellion threatening to move out of my chest in a violent and dramatic way. I cannot coax it. Cannot pretend this isn’t happening. Indiana Jones would have capture this gemstone with no problem. Not me. I must now find my way back with my life and livelihood intact.

What if marriage is a real life horcrux? We split our souls into an institution and symbols of our love (ring), at our own peril. I guess the counterargument to that would be but that when we die, we die. Though if the love is true, that moment can be torturous for the other party who knew and experienced true love with the deceased. This is garbage and I’ve just been reading too much Harry Potter. Maybe not to much … but too often.

Sparkling, even in small amounts. Dazzling in large. A symbol of status. A symbol man kind and ad agencies have ascribed status to. These things are not intrinsic. Their value is created. I feel bad for those pinned down by its trappings. When there’s enough money involved, I think that happens more often that we realize. Trapped by wealth, spoiled by it. You cannot eat it. You can wear it and sell it and perhaps for a moment it makes you feel good, but like all things that fades.

Diamond records, diamond teeth, diamond rock, diamond ring and jewelry. Diamond needle.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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