find
a lost person is not like a possession you find again
it will have its difference
scratched or hammered hard inside itself
not on its plated casing in visible disgrace
its self disgust is fleeting like the labyrinths in dreams
like nests of ghouls beneath a knotted totem tree
wary as the apparition of a sloughing snake
difficult obtuse if even placed at all
a lost thing found is great excitement of relief
but maybe only to its finder
do not expect that expectation be the same
that views remain the same
for mounts may rise from chalky sea beds
from fishy pastures up into an eagles palace
name the fish that flies those highs
and in that way a queen becomes a humbled lover
a peasant lover may be raised to queen
and all life traversed
as if gravity and all matter were inverse
and we were living in the bubbles of its airs
its labyrinth
and all the universe around were solid rock
for all around it feels like solid rock
constricting rock that though not moving
claustrophobic in its cloistered Doric air
is breathing signs of crushing hatred
and will collapse to but the thinnest limestone vault
and all being gone that feeling of escape will rise
like blood stains tainting whitest porous rock
and etch its caverns which grow unseen
to become another universal sphere
deep beneath your conscious frowns and froings
a lost thing can never really be regained
it went and that is all
tainted by its going trail
life moves on
accommodate or not