A man owned five water balloons,
Preserved for many years.
Each one was kept in its own box,
As cherished souvenirs.
One box was forged from platinum,
With rubies on each side.
On ermine lining, you will find,
The red balloon inside.
The second box was made of gold,
With diamonds round about.
The white balloon is kept within.
The golden box was stout.
The silver box was satin laced,
Atop, emeralds were set.
Designed to hold the green balloon,
A delicate asset.
Next there was an ivory box,
Sapphires enhanced the view.
A balloon on a bed of silk,
And that balloon was blue.
And finally a wooden box,
It's maker, very skilled.
It's built to hold the pink balloon,
With memories, it's filled.
As you gaze upon the boxes,
Which one is worth the most?
Take note of what they're crafted from,
The treasures which they boast.
Consider ere you make a choice,
Look at them once again.
These boxes have nothing to do,
With what is held within.
These things are only metaphor,
For we are the balloons.
We are simply bags of water,
By God's hands we were hewn.
And nothing we're surrounded by
Makes anyone worth more!
Our value is in our purpose,
The spirit at our core.
That cannot be determined by
Our looks or earthly gain.
Our value comes with what we give,
And not what we attain.
The kings who sit on golden thrones,
Covered in precious stones,
Will find the truth at journey's end,
As time consumes their bones.
What value is an earthly box,
More treasured than the moon,
If all the box contains within,
Is a water balloon?
This poem was a finalist in the July 2023 poetry contest