Jan Marie Parupia
Choices - Poem by Jan Marie Parupia
Once upon a time there were two men,
Who saw the world through different eyes,
One, though poor, was meek and humble,
The other was rich, but filled with lies.
The rich man sought only for beauty,
With others he would not share,
But if you looked within his heart,
Darkness you would find there.
The poor man, for all his labors,
Gained not of wealth or fame,
Yet his heart was filled with kindness,
He loved mankind all the same.
Now the gods looking down upon these two,
Decided their lives to confuse,
They placed four urns before them,
And told them they must choose.
Two of the urns were earthen clay,
Hand painted with simple design,
The other two were gem encrusted gold,
Shining bright, and oh so fine.
The men were told to choose the urn,
That they would wish to keep,
Then they would reach their hands inside,
For to laugh or weep.
Both men made men made their choices,
Both, blindfolded, reached within,
The poor man felt tiny pebbles,
The rich man, cold snake's skin.
They each took off their blindfolds,
And started to withdraw their hands,
The viper's in the rich man's urn struck,
And he fell down to the sands.
As for the poor man and his urn,
When he withdrew his hand with care,
He slowly opened his fingers,
And found diamonds resting there.
And which urn did each man choose?
This question you might now ask,
Think back to each man's heart,
And the answer will not your mind task.
The rich man chose the golden urn,
Filled with green, cold scaled death,
While the poor man chose the earthen jar,
Which to his life gave new breath.
The moral of this story, to any that will hear,
Is a lovely vessel can sometimes poison contain
That for all of it's great beauty,
It brings nothing but sorrow and pain.
But as for the humbler vessel,
Though it be not quite so bright,
Can often be filled up with things,
That help to make your heart light.
Moral: Poison from a golden vessel may be poured, but likewise can diamonds in a humble clay pot be stored.
Comments about Choices by Jan Marie Parupia
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe