My Gold

When re-gain something you have lost once, you realise that it cannot be the same again...

My Gold



Though the intentions may not have been ethical,

Company, I treasure. Experience, I value.

Gold is gold, though I owned it or not.

When intangible is gold, existence is a tragedy

For how can I own what denies being owned?

Still, life replaced existence, gaining more vigour,

Strength, colour and above all, desire, promise and will.

Are you telling me that this is better, reminding of

An immature fear of a host of prejudices,

Of losing bonds that matter,

That set us apart once, soaking the universe in a rain of pain?

Plague me with the memory of a treasure, when in solitude,

Cannot be shared with nor understood by anyone else.

Brighten me with your presence that, though not permanent

Promises me I’m wanted, remembered and valued,

The bliss that the attachment – mine isn’t a waste

That yours is still there, and I own it - the gold,

Though the mine that contains it is in a far away land.