Prism

A mark of creation I am bestowed

of such unalterable permanence

Ivory as the gown of a love's betrothed

secure roots of ancestral pertinence

A crisis endured for ages abound

betwixt my instinct and mentality

doubtfully writ in conviction profound

they call this descriptor identity

Be it the sepia of Gypsy skin

or the crimson passion for a lover?

Be it the virescence of vocation

or a country's flag imbued with colour?

Be it the aureate locks bleached in summer

or the amber pools admired in fall?

Be it the pronoun of one's own partner

or the iridescent bliss love enthralls?

A culprit to all hues that bleed into white form

the mark of Beauty I declare rests quietly adorned.