early this morning, i was cleaning out one of my desk drawers, looking for my box of violet ink cartridges, when i came across a small journal i had kept while reading the writings of c. g. jung. what pleasure i took in becoming reacquainted with my thoughts from days long past and believed forgotten! what joy to see the words so eloquently scribed! 

describing moments
i had thought lost 
and forgotten

but i remind myself… it is not in writing about them that events are immortalized. it is in coming upon them… uncovering them… discovering them… a second time… and then again… and again... and again.

finding… that is the treasure.

even forgotten words are never lost…
only found:

in certain darknesses
where words have no faculty
over stifled emotion
where there is no language
to describe experience
what matters is
the placement of self
before her shadow
hiding in plain sight
hoping to evade confrontation


that is the treasure.