Dying dreams inside the Pearls

Nor the Pearl's fear ever wrenched the  vase's heart neither any of them wished to trick their better half. The slightly puce shaded pearls and the crystal vase together had measured the delight of flickers of light slithering over them and then swirling around their hollow hours of wilderness. The life inside the vase has surpassed the life outside. How often the twigs tapped on the window panes, birds sung to their young ones lullabies and wind rattled against the frangible pearls , the vase sat there with its eyes clamped shut. At times from the lower fissure of the blinds wan moonlight from the starless sky, crawled to the room and cuddled straight the numb creature of glass but no sound , no tinge helped them to stutter to life. The roots of autumn have shackled the glass balls and the vase and the agony of dying dreams have made them indifferent towards pastel blue, opaque onyx, turquoise and olive greens of spring.

I wonder these pearls were my ancestors enveloped by the subtle sheen of crystal who once lived in the sand castles.They had cherry lips, coral pink cheeks and black brows. These  humans were like big massive rocks crashed by the giant waves of the sea. Their bodies would have slackened each time they caught breath to observe the splendour of the oysters lying close to them. Indeed they were like empty toys from inside but from outside they transformed themselves into burnished pearls.

I  am also residing inside the emporium of grandeur and lustre and  some day I'll turn a pearl too and later nor the world will make any difference to me nor the flames of my dying dream will make my presence felt to the multi-canvassed world.