The Marble Inkwell

Rich days of old, of silk and glory,
when friends were jade and gold and ivory,
a noble thing of imperial perfection
was I, who belonged to the Son of Heaven.

With ermine brush, that royal hand,
my polished surface stroked with every strand,
I held the ink that proved with certainty,
the strength of an emperor's calligraphy.

A change blown in, a wind from the west,
stirred up our Age of ancient bequest,
evicted from Beauty and cloistered tranquility
I weathered the frights of modern reality.

A page of history turned, turbulence is past,
in time, I landed, safe, in a cage of glass,
an ugly palace where now I spend my days
enduring the common touch of public gaze.

I am lonely, though visitors rude are plenty,
my friends refined are gone, and I am empty;
of ink, and grace, wondering if I'm the last,
alone and kept in a cage of glass.

~ Paige Chia ~

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