Treasure Hunt

Too many colors.
Too many colors.

Cryptic characters parade across

Snowy fields of insular nature,

Explaining what it is in obsidian

Hieroglyphs where certain

Landmarks grow from buried roots.

A blackened vein runs down the center

From somewhere to somewhere else,

With blocks and bricks and

Wooden fences holding them in

Warm embrace on either side.

She composes her mind with a pen

That sometimes clots its ink,

Hidden behind a blue wall

And lace curtain pulled to the side,

Hanging on a rusted nail.

Friends surround her except for one,

Those around explain how it is

She is supposed to express herself

Without really knowing how

The patterns tesselate in the dark.

The one not there, that mystic guide,

Shunned because of age of ability,

Or because he didn’t point the sword,

Eats pieces of hope and the future

That are the very essence of who he is.

The task completed, a messenger is summoned

To deliver the parcel so the woman can drink,

Her one friend really two in symbiosis,

The other merely a co-conspirator in creation,

All exhausted from singing in harmony.

The parcel is delivered but questions are asked,

The messenger knows only nothing

And how kaleidoscopes crack in crystal rings,

Smiling toothless grins and machine gun laughs

To diffuse the war with bellicose peace.

Alone again and at last to begin

Carving a clean rosetta stone in candle wax

And porcelain flowers that shower sparks,

Behind a wooden curtain poked full of holes,

Separated in his mind, together in hers.

Composed 07/01/2012

Author’s Note: Not one of the best I’ve done, but there we have it. There were maps to be drawn. A pregnant woman was there, too. All in the name of community development!

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