Treasure
(for quaintobsessions in response to Discovery)
The tome you mentioned arrived by post today in an unassuming brown box, a used copy well loved, by whom I shall never know. Yet, it is not the book but
the one who suggested it, not the words or themes, but the spirit in which they arrived in my uncertain hands— pregnant with possibility, the start of a journey yet to come.
Under sunlight sparkling dust motes, the inkwell once dried in winter’s desolation springs forth anew, brimming bright pigments released from their crystalline tombs,
an energy flowing in seams of lost time and will, reticence released, pure joy set alight in a darkened intellect, encouragement to love and feel loved for all that lay silent.
Acceptance received, shyly, in the brilliance of admiration; a cache of emotion, once squandered, now free to be channeled toward beauty’s shining purpose in me.
And as the sun slips its azimuth, pale gloaming delight, I have hope, happily, for the dawn.
- Keith Busby (Taedhg) 2015