The lakebed – a mystery beneath me
a raised fist of surface tension
broken by my presence
ready to snap

The bold                             enfold
Take hold                           withhold

Those treasures that a younger self might seek
buried beneath what could have been
in the hands of sunk ships
we passed at night

Be slow                              cargo
forgo                                   below

Destination
tribulation
the boon of the lonely
once found grants us only
abdication