My treasure of love is yet to be found.
But even with a golden spade,
I’d be hard pressed without a compass.
With my heart turned toward heaven, I wait for a sound.
I’ve escaped the shadows, but I’m stuck in the shade.
Then a whisper that’s near says…
but I’m too impatient to remain.
[ …Unearthing nothing,
but I know it will be found
Maybe my arrival was late,
and the kairos has passed.
Drawn to return,
and the sun squints.
It reflects its glisten
at my point of departure . ]
I stall at the place, and the whisper…
it remains.
((In an echo,
In an echo,))
Yes, those words have resounded for ages,
so I figure I’ll listen.
I relinquish my trust.
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