The Fisherman's Ordeal

A silver tongue has been slain Although one knows not of The whereabouts of its remains An ignorant old fisherman Frequently fishes in the deep end With the grandeur ounce of hope In discovering intellectual enrichment How I pity the poor fool, for I too know That this valuable item shall never see Even an inch of this man's flesh Devastated the fisherman flees home Aggression rising in his bones Indifferent to the illumination That his beguiling ways have painted More than likely to this He shall become better acquainted It is blatantly clear that A stranger indeed cannot Grant his touch to A distinguished artifact And attempt to pass it off As his own However originality has drowned Within a plethora of quicksand As a result of a callous heart Eclipsed by layers of ice This cycle must be mutilated It shall no longer suffice © 2011 (All rights reserved)