Buried Treasure

Buried for thousands of years
The fabric of the soul
The collective conscience of the man
Indeed, that wandering spirit is alive
It crushes into my dream, Ignites a fire
A sight, a sense, aroma, a melody perhaps
Sparks reminiscence of not the past,
Of the future in fact
That’s the exotic mélange,
The vision I have time to time
The crux of what I feverishly inscribe.