These are ashes of treasures: <br />Of hurt and loss. <br />These are ashes in face of which <br />Granite is dross. <br />Dove, naked and brilliant, <br />It has no mate. <br />Solomon's ashes <br />Over vanity that's great. <br />Time's menacing chalkmark, <br />Not to be overthrown. <br />Means God knocks at the door <br />-- Once the house has burned down! <br />Not choked yet by refuse, <br />Days' and dreams' conqueror. <br />Like a thunderbolt -- Spirit <br />Of early grey hair. <br />It's not you who've betrayed me <br />On the home front, years. <br />This grey is the triumph <br />Of immortal powers.<br /><br />Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grey-hairs/
