Searching for our feelings
Hidden deep within the trunk of time
Camouflaged by daily dealings
Projected through the minds of mimes
Rummaging through the trunk
Long lost and long filed memories
Survive amongst old forgotten junk
To press the patience of aged knotted knees
We will not leave nor give up
Until we find what we’ve come for
The search is for our sacred cup
To sip and quench our thirst once more
Finally, our dusty junk is pressed
Against a distant wall, while that which we seek
Glows with finger tip touch obsessed
and renders quest no longer bleak
now get out your aged treasured feelings
cradle valued gems and shout
dust off your glory crown of many healings
and cherish what your getting out.
E.E. Biller