Beauty snares the supplicants supping at the poisoned fount far too late the trap is sprung as the victims seek for more there is a story behind the tears as the mind is turned against those who follow far behind also led to toast their chains.
Infancy came with the charge to walk a path none few would have after life has savaged them still the young are brought within arrayed by surface symmetry determination is then made by a world that consumes with no thought of consequence.
Once the gate has closed behind those deluded by the charm run the conveyor with no end chasing comely will-o-wisps what came before is soon lost as the years impose their price whispering promises falling short wisdom comes far too late.
Empowerment of the young a promise made for betterment becomes the bitter manacles when the lie is revealed if only death was an end once the curse is disclosed instead the living carry on to bring fresh beauty to the fount.
“The Fount” was inspired by Mary Wollstonecraft’s quotation, “Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman’s sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison.”