Crystallization

And a sheen of gems, of crystal grows
Upon an imperfect figure
Encrusting the reality in radiance—
As if some silver tide had washed over
And turned all dark to light—
Has ever a blemish still looked unfair
When thrown into a million little rays
To delight the unsuspecting, all-unknowing eye?
And daily grows the fascination
As imperfection becomes more than paragon.