Truth lies for pennies in the market square,
Authentic hearts are scattered everywhere.
The sweat of labor stains both earth and sky,
Yet solitude sits gentle, and not wry.
But falsehood struts in robes of golden thread,
Its price is dear, yet mortals turn their head.
For costly masks do catch the crowd’s delight,
And bonds of kin unlock the gates of might.
Yet once in moons, by fortune’s fickle art,
The heavens crown a pure and spotless heart.
But oh, how rare such miracles unfold—
Like finding pearls ’midst heaps of tarnished gold.
—Written by Mayuri Jain
Category: Musings