It was nearly evening when we finally finished unwrapping the layers of time that had gently shrouded our Great Treasure. We held our breath as the last of those timeworn wraps peeled back slowly, like the clothes of your first love, and exhaled softly as the Majesty of what he had found was revealed. There had been speculation, of course, that this was not actually the Treasure we had been seeking. That this lovely, fragile mystery was just another in an endless series of mishaps and mistaken identities. Our marks had been left all over this part of the world as we went seeking, always seeking.

Digging. Scratching. Uncovering. Dusting. Unwrapping. Beholding.

Walking away in tired disgust and weary sadness.

This time would be different. We had found it. We knew of its measurements (we had known them before) and we knew of its shape (we had drawn it a thousand times in each others' eyes with our very words) and this was the one that matched both and then matched them again.

Unwrapping. Whispering. Dusting. Loving. Discovering.

We stopped as the sun went down behind the hills, on to trouble the other half of the world for awhile. Somewhere, mused a companion, another small group of us must be about to do this as well. We muttered in agreement. This was foreseen and foreknown.

We would all have our treasure at once, more or less, as the sun allowed.

We sat again for just a few more minutes in a circle around the Treasure and let it seep into us again.

All at once, we knew that something had happened we couldn't quite understand.

We walked back down from the hilltops and turned one last time to watch the wind take away the last of the smoke up towards the moon.

There are always new treasures.

There are always new treasures.

Poetry isn't the only literature that's beautiful. I had an English teacher once tell me to try and make words and language beautiful. It seems to me that modern day writers have lost their touch. It's one thing to write sentences, but it's another to be able to craft an exquisite sounding word-flow of syllables that touches on the absolute splendors of human existence. But can written/spoken word really be beautiful? I guess that's up to the reader, but I'd like to think so.

Writing, at its core, is conveying emotions. When I write I want my feelings and emotions to radiate off the page and touch the reader in some profound and significant way. But sadly, we all can't be poets. I'll admit, I'm not one for writing poetry as I find myself being restricted by rhyme and meter. I find myself not being able to say what I want to say. So, instead, I try and write beautiful sentences. Sentences that have certain poetic qualities without the bounds of actual verse. It seems like writers these days are just writing to get to the next sentence, and then the next paragraph and so forth. Instead we should try and pack as much meaning into as little space as possible. One good sentence is far better than a hundred average ones.

There's nothing better to me than reading an expertly crafted sentence that uses creative wordplay. To me, it's much more important for the sentence to look and sound good than to be grammatically correct. I don't write to be grammatically correct; I write to express myself, to inspire, and most importantly, to woo women.

I admit, some days I wish I could write eloquent poetry for the many beautiful girls that fill my days. I do try, but my real talent is short, abstract pieces. The idea of writing a love paragraph may not sound so romantic, but it's the best I've got.

So in short, words and language can be beautiful. It can flow from the lips like a tranquil summer breeze. It doesn't have to rhyme or be in meter, it just has to be. Be inspired by something greater than yourself, and then put it to words. Don't write average, write beautifully.



This isn't ment as a bash at poetry, I only wish to get people thinking.

her fingers push through the plants
taking them from a
happy, simple life
in the soil.
soon they themselves will meld with the dirt
as their veins are consumed
by worms
and other creatures that hide in the soft,
mysterious underworld.
from birth
we are nurtured and fed
in death,
we nurture, and our bodies will feed.
from the earth we came,
so to the earth we will go.

humans are nothing more than trees.
instead of leaves of gold,
we have hair that rests on our heads
and sings in the wind.
instead of bark that is home to millions of
tiny creatures
that possess wisdom beyond our years,
we have skin
that may someday cradle a growing
human being.
my grandmother's fingers will always remind me of
a willow tree,
with their crooked knuckles and knots
and veins that run through her hands
like the long, wispy branches
of the willow
that gently fall to the ground.

she says that her garden is her church.
she knows her flowers as well
as her family,
their nuanced voices, textures, and expressions
as the seasons change.
she draws them carefully from
the ground
patiently watching as they enter into
full bloom
as a mother watches her child
grow into a teenager
and later into an adult.
in death she will collect them
to cherish their dried, crinkled leaves.
from the earth we came,
so to the earth we will go.

Today at work everyone in my department was supposed to bring in whatever they thought would be good on top of ice cream. Since people at work know about my food allergies they were nice enough to let me go first. I wasn't really hungry when the ice cream was served but the raspberries were luscious looking in the cut glass dish my coworker had brought. There was only half an hour left to my day when I walked past the long counter of ice cream toppings.

On my way back to my desk I ate about ten or twelve M&M candies. Halfway down the hall my throat started hurting. By the time I used my Epi-Pen I was having trouble breathing. On the way to the emergency room I was thinking; if I start crying my body will get less air than its getting now. At the hospital the staff responsive, quick and informative.

When I questioned the need for an IV they told me they'd love to help me save money but this was something I had to have. The next day my boss told me to take the day off. The Human Resources manager told me I should focus on my health. She also told me I should buy a book, a new purse and to start asking for whatever help I need. She informed me that I was in crisis mode. Those were words I didn't want to hear which are usually the words I need to be hearing. The new purse is going back, I thought it would work but once I got home I found it wouldn't hold everything I need to carry.

Thursday morning I woke up, ate a bowl of wheat-free cereal and realized I couldn't breathe. At the emergency room I had another round of histamine blocking medications. Later on I met with an allergist I had seen before. During my appointment he told me I shouldn't have eaten the M&M's. I have a walnut allergy which is what he thinks triggered the initial reaction. When I told him about visiting the emergency room he said they hadn't done anything. He questioned whether I had an actual allergic reaction or came in to have a panic attack treated. After that appointment I went down to see if I could talk to the physician who had treated me earlier that morning.

When I had first seen him I had asked if he thought this was all in my head. I hadn't been wheezing but my chest had felt as if it was being squeezed. He told me that given my past history coming in was the right thing to do. His exact words were "I'm glad you're here." Later he confirmed that my treatment plan was based on signs and symptoms he observed which were consistent with an allergic reaction. People at my new job have really been awesome about everything. When I called my boss to let him know I wouldn't be in he told me not to worry about it. He said that from his point of view he thought I was doing a good job and I was bringing some good things to the table.

When I was at work yesterday some of the women I work with told me they liked working with me which was really nice to hear. I think a supervisor of mine wanted to talk to me but didn't really know what to say or how to say it. Right now I'm working on a game plan for my life. Recently I picked up a personal trainer. That's been good for me and I think that one of the reasons I did as well as I did after the reaction is because my lungs are stronger now. Yoga is another thing on my agenda, I'm looking into swimming lessons and I'm going make an appointment to see a registered dietitian so I have a better game plan for giving my body the nutrients it needs to stay healthy.

Recently I've had to listen to some hard truths about myself, hopefully I'll be able to grow from those words of wisdom. To close I'd like to reiterate something I was recently told: What you need is out there. You have to believe that and you have to ask for it because no one else is going to live your life for you. People don't know how they can help or that you need help until you let them know. They may not be able to give you what you think you need but your part of the equation is the request for help.

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