The Reveal

The copper bowl, forgot for years,

held nothing but its aged fears.

It sat there, dark, a quiet mound,

until my searching fingers found

a hidden edge, a polished streak.

I rubbed it, hard, to make it speak.

The brown-black film gave way to flame,

a sharp, bright core, that knew its name.

Like skin peeled back, a sudden scar,

showing the true thing, what you are,

under the dull, the heavy cost.

The shine that almost had been lost.