Treasure in the Memory Banks
There is an idea…an image that shines at its edge.
It is known and lost – in sleeping roots of brain sedge.
The want of recall makes gold and jade from mere dust.
Through veils and lovely ignorance, the thought is thrust.
Youthful philosophy is so pretty and valued once lost.
Such treasure in this shroud is remembered at its cost.
For reconciling then with the hallmarks of this time,
Takes the gleam of immortality from the vague sublime.
Half remembered lore and half remembered dreams:
Abstract joy in boxes, all that glitters and gleams.
If I deconstruct meaning and apply theory to this gold
It will tarnish in academic glory…it is cold.