The lamp was off at the top of the stairs
+
The crystal lamp, those wooden stairs
+
I climbed and opened the door
+
Through cobwebs and the dust
+
Long lost
+
With my rod and hook
+
Fishing in the brooks of time
+
Fishing in the attic of history
+
I hoped to catch a glimpse
+
But the Earth appeared before me
+
As carved by a young apprentice
+
We are all here in reality
+
But there's more to the story than that
+
I could hear the fear behind his words
+
I could see everything there is to see
+
I took a breath and swam down
+
Deep into forever
+
To salvage what I could
+
Mementos in a box
+
Taking note of everything
+
Behind those age-ed locks
+
Searching in the corner
+
At the bottom of a lake
+
Heirloom necessity
+
In the depths of my aspiration
+
Etched into the ceiling
+
Of gold leaf and royal blue, but faded
+
Dim in the spirals, of the night's light
+
A cloud of dust and temples appeared before me
+
And the box; the box of memories
+
With it I returned to the surface
+
To catch my breath
+
I had found what I had come for
+
I had found what I had lost
+
My treasure, so soon to forfeit solitude
+
To be born, I was quite forlorn
+
The heirloom that I saved
+
In my pocket: a sonnet
+
Rummage through the past
+
And seek what you need to find
+
But be careful what you wish for
+
Take my cautionary advice
+
Beneath the dust is wreckage
+
Of a shipwreck out at sea
+
And the ghosts who inhabit
+
This realm are thirsty, and unafraid
+
This is not for children
+
I saw what there was to see
+
And I believe that you shall too
+
A world, perfectly aligned
+
With everything it needs
+
To be rectified and true
+
But this is not something
+
That is often done
+
Our world, unraveling
+
Coming undone
+
Deep inside an ocean
+
Of blackened consciousness
+
Deep inside the mind
+
Where no one cares to go
+
Like so many others, forbidden
+
And alone
+
Oh, the tales that History could weave
+
Of the mysteries, and the woes
+
Of the generations gone, so long ago
+
So long, gone
+
I formed my own interpretation
+
About what is going on, in the attic
+
I did my best, with what I was given
+
And I will not lie to you
+
The hunt for truth is lonely
+
And the truth itself, very sad
+
But there's still hope
+
We all have ample time
+
As long as we don't blow it
+
As long as we survive
+
