The jeweler and his gem. 

He admires his possession, 

gazing at it through a wall of glass. 

He longs for it- it is close, but never his. 

He watches as the masses come in, 

coveting what is his. 

They do what he cannot, hold it, touch it, love it. 

They do not appreciate it, only he does, but that matters not. 

He will forever long, forever lust for its warm touch, 

a touch the jeweler will never feel. 

Day in and day out, it is right there, but he cannot, he must not. 

The glass protects it from his touch. 

The glass is only ever opened for the masses, never for him. 

He is its arbiter but never to be its owner. 

Such is the path he has chosen, 

such is the path he is beholdened to.

One day he will have to sell it, 

watch as it is betrothed to another but not to him. 

Never to him. 

One day it will be gone. 

One day he will be empty. 

One day. 

Not today.