It’s Afire

Stories were handed down, father to son,

About the properties of Sapphire stones.

Perhaps the one in which Brahma intones

Prayers for the first wrong deed he had done

Harkens our spiritual attention

In the direction of his bitter moans,

Recorded in hard memorial-stones

Etched from the hot tears that his eyes have spun.

Sacred to Luna, sapphires will open

The hearts of hard men to prayer’s power,

Or, at least, bring more peace than any gem.

Nevertheless, take this as an omen:

Each who wears it must be pure, or cower!

Sleeping dogs, let them lie: “Cave canem.”

Sonnet IX