Cradle of Luminescence

In the cradle of hands, a world is held, A sphere of glass, a mirror of the soul. Its surface gleams with the fire of the sun, A beacon of hope in the twilight of doubt. The spark within, a candle's gentle flame, Reflects the universe in its fragile frame. Each speck of dust, a star in its own right, A cosmos captured in the palm of fate. The warmth of the glow, a promise of light, A reminder that even in darkness, we shine. The hands that hold, a vessel of trust, Guarding the essence of what is divine. This is not just glass, but a talisman, A symbol of hope, a mirror of the mind. It speaks of dreams, of journeys untold, And the power within us, if we but hold. For in the cradle of our own hands, We carry the world, the stars, and the land. Let this sphere remind us of our strength, That even in fragility, we are strong.