A rocky and complex carbon structure,
That’s all I am under a cold scientific eye,
A mighty good investment-a magnate’s status figure,
For wooing his lady fair with all that money can
Well,well-there’s more to me than merely cliched
I am something as aged as Time himself-I am heritage,
From poor Caesar’s carnage to the Dow Jones’
For historians-better food for thought than any
mortal’s royal lineage.
Childhood in a part of Pangaea -which is now called South Africa,
After that geological rock’n’roll the Cro-Magnon-
Turned my sooty dullness into an incandescent
In Bharat became a part of a Chola’s diadem.
Whisked away westward-turned into a pendant,
And God knows how many generations of countesses
had flaunted me,
But to be honest-the French revolution was heaven-
Bye-bye to the shallow and the fawning-ended up
with a revolutionary.
Found a friend in a peasant lad with a heart untaught,
Who took to me and understood the esoteric and
my white magic,
Right now in the Louvre-“contemporary” companions
‘Tis midnight-the curator is winding up and his
stare is karmic.
Oh it is the same lad-I mean the same soul,
I haven’t been entwined with orgies and the
With the human spirit did I endure-playing a cosmic role,
I am a heritage not of the past but of eternity.