Speak

The Treasure Map

I rub my eyes to better my vision but the masterpiece is a phosphene
At a constant dilate with hands that meet precision
Fulfilling what was once a longing

In peripheral sight I've seen the lips uplift
But quickly put to rest to conceal
And have caught the flicker in the gaze of which
Whom doesn't repose the surreal

The glance is savored in a map made with the most delicate of cloth
A fabric that is a rarity placed on the neck to be inhaust
I've pondered the array
I'm still unnerved by its measure
I'm apprehensive
I'm overwrought
Unwanting to disquiet this endeavor
With a breath to ponder the forethought
I force myself to saunter till I can render

I begin tracing my finger down the plinth
With tired sight I wish to keep it here forever
But to have sincerity I must loosen my grasp
Though as an underpin I'll not sever

With settled nerves I follow back
To be met with heavy feet and a hollow head
Despite I reach for the needle, so pivotal to the thread
A shade of sky
Another a color of sage
A dash of mica on the finger tips
And I put the needle to the page
A bright trail to the treasure I list
Sewn in to never fade

I find it in the walls of this structure
Yet have never been able to mark its place