Bedolach and Onyx Stone

HE assembled three different kinds of beads
in three little piles; no doubt by color,
on his threadbare mat.
From left to right lay the odd shapes
of turquoise, crimson, and black onyx,
in meticulous pyramids.
Down his tremendous nose, he glared
at the doughy doll which he had molded,
shapeless and limp.
He sat, cross-legged and silent,
looking out across the mesa…
it was just the right shade of orange at dawn.
The doll had a head, two arms, and two legs;
on its head no hair, no eyes, no mouth;
on its limbs no fingers, no toes, no palms.

He mused upon it thoughtfully…
He had chosen just the right shade of clay,
he thought; just the right shade.

When it came time to choose and place
the eyes among the golden face,
he pondered heavy and scratched his head.
As the miracle Sun rose in the sky,
it reached the many beads that lie,
and they sat silent, all together in shining.
“What, ho! It were as if my own beauteous beads
do seek to tempt mine watchful eye!”
He gazed among them, in Sunday peace,
until something caught his eye:
two onyx beads among the others…
They refracted the sunlight in great, magnificent rays
of vibrant and complex colors, yet contained the cloudy black,
sparkling and opalescent like the night sky over the plains.
He picked them gingerly from the pile
and let them lie in his red, wrinkled palm.
He gazed into the stellar marbles,
sighing deeply with a modest grin on his face.
They were just the right shade.