A ring of many rings, was forged with gold and soul in one,
the artisan glinted in the dark, as dark as the brightest sun.
For blindness to all but inner light, affronts the workers nigh, and night.
In fluid liquid metal poured, all the art of adoration.
The generations learning cast to steel,
caressed to shapes, a foil as thin as air,
gossamer, more gossamer than finest hair.
A web woven of spun fine filament,
that catches candle light as fire.
Then worn once by fading princess,
her years heavily on all but her face,
giving her last chance to prolong her race,
a marriage to a boy a fraction of her age.
But of this truth, she lied.
But fate was to smile on this mismatch,
Some love another kind was between them found,
From first the glamor worked upon his eyes, a startle shook his soul.
From hammer forged, to signature forged,
to forged the matrimony's bonds.
It is a story from that other time.