A five fingered sweep of the hand over
exposed skin-
so warm against the cold,
the thin breeze drifting over us like a
thick april fog-
the snow outside is the painting,
and us, the subjects-
on a canvas so rich,
so dense with color,
and as beautiful as the seconds trapped
within this moment-
find your way to my deepest heart,
beneath the ancient layers of fossils and
beyond the grand canyons and swollen
brave the heat of rushing magma-
and traverse the many miles of open ground-
within those caverns is a living core-
free of the chains that bound it-
far from the wind that doused the flame-
find your way to my deepest heart-
burrow through the earthen crust-
and pan for the gold that lay uncovered,

and untouched-
see it so that it can be realized*


One comment

  1. gypsy11

    we are, indeed, masterpieces with a myriad of buried treasures within us; so much of which will unfortunately be buried with us.

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