The Word

The word was never lost.
Merely forgotten or abandoned.
It is buried in the centuries.
Riches deep wait near the surface.

We struggle forward,
Through temptation. Through distraction.
The shovels reveal a shallow darkness,
The unplumbed depths threaten.

Inside to find a jewel.
Born of the Earth, precious in truth.
It says nothing. It speaks volumes.
To the king we know waits.

The word is not there,
Where once it reposed.
Our sorrow deepens.
We return to the abyss.

Not so deep as first thought.
Not so Stygian as dull.
The jewel it shines light sublime,
We see a brother return.

The word is not forgotten,
It resides inside our breasts.
For the morning dew is as true,
As this we discover as happiness.

Our journey is obscure,
Worth more than any lucre.
We know the steps and how to trod,
Our lessons set the path.

The light remains,
Join with happy gifts.
Brothers offer hands,
To do the needed work.

The word not trite nor crude,
One word as stars above.
That one word has never left us.
When hidden, call it love.