Sinking

When the weight of two gold rings 

became too much for fingers,

they cast them into the ocean,

ponderous deeps to behold.

Night-blue abyss swallowing up

the ardent frivolity in its

arythmic movements most organic,

digesting the notion behind

a ceremonial, albeit commercialized 

symbol, leaning toward a value

based on appearance 

and rarity of material.

Indifferent, the waves pass over

and swell until there are no more

tokens to fathom, and forgotten,

they dispassionately  listen to whales 

and exhalation of a timeless query.

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