The Diamond Melted (poem)

By Luke Labern

A diamond encrusted, though under dirt
Still sparkles: its rare existence enough
To draw pride like tides. Now let me revert --
I'm not one of these by chance. It's the rough
Life that I adore.

Success is not the same as enjoyment.
Much comes to me with more ease than others.
I often find this surreal employment
Detracts from my life -- and my brothers' --
A point always sore.

I understand the conflicting reports.
Where once it cut me deep, I now rely
On this, to stoke the flame of my thoughts.
There's a word -- grind -- that does all to imply
My appearance raw.

Some seem to believe that I attempt to coast.
But I push myself; my body, my mind...
Till the spirit in my begins to roast --
A fire within -- that I keep confined.
(Who's this truly for?)

Do I write it for me, or another?
I wish I could tell. Try speaking aloud:
Does it sound better than read? Or rather
Do the seated word convey more proud
Or subtle, an awe?

The dusk sets in before I mention you.
Know that I care, but that I am not steady
If already our relationship you rue.
Let me know: for I am always ready.
Maybe it's you I adore.