A Verse to a Magical Ring

In this sonnet I tried to compare a poem with a ring to it to an alchemist attempting to make gold out of a lead ring; they are both rings. You think?

Puzzling out a poem in shades of gray
The lines hit the monitor's white lit face
With nothing new to ever think or say
I don't really write I just retrace
The thoughts and the ideas others have used
To dirty the pages I would have to read
In fear of being uncool and over confused
Save for something golden known for its lead
O' Pen in the lack or that creatively said
Unwisely I offer my soul to Poetry
That though restated it was not really dead
Like seeds of such genius may yet know a tree
Wasted away and no longer a beautiful thing
Like an alchemists dream of gold or lead it's a ring.