What’s in the wooden box?
An ornate engraved chest –
Does it promise me treasure?
Diamonds, jewels, gold?
It must with any luck.
I approach the container with trepidation,
My fingers tremble with delicious anticipation,
And the tremor which should rile me awfully
Pushes me forth:
The adrenaline is potent.
What will I find?
Something pleasing to the eye?
An ornate dream awaits me,
And I beg to see,
Continuing to hungrily breathe the moments in and out
My reaching hands,
My claw-like fingers,
Closer and closer until:
Inside there is nothing,
Illusory, so potent.
I tear aside all crushed expectation within.
The thrill was most certainly in the pursuit,
It was within the chase,
And I realise that what my mind,
Can conjure up
Is far more magical and worthwhile than
Any gold or diamond or jewel sparkling within my eyes.
More than anything these material possessions can prove
At a later date,
My internal world,
The breadth of my dreaming,
This is the true gift I should accept
As a prized possession in my life,
It is irrevocably part of my healing.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by myself.
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