avatarEmily Wilcox

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Abstract

">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="c24c">If life is like a treasure map, then <i>boy</i> am I lost. Why am I even searching? For how long and at what cost? A page that’s now decaying. The edges torn, ripped and frayed. Every inch a mark of bleeding ink; the choices that I’ve made.</p><p id="3e81">A map with no direction. Entire corners now cut out. In a language you do not know nor have ever been taught about. Plus it’s 2am now. The deepest depths of the night. <i>How are you meant to

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read a map with no access to a light</i>?</p><p id="a6a3">If life is like a treasure map, where <i>X</i> marks the spot? Can’t I just avoid it? Leave my gold there to rot? Because I refuse to wander so blindly into the dark. Hunting for this unknown thing, as it sits there on its mark.</p><p id="123c">You see, life — it seems — is just a fortune. In a beige cookie it is rolled up inside. But it’s blank. It’s empty. A canvas, unwritten. What appears on it is for us to decide.</p></article></body>

Existential Treasure

A poem about the layout of life

Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

If life is like a treasure map, then boy am I lost. Why am I even searching? For how long and at what cost? A page that’s now decaying. The edges torn, ripped and frayed. Every inch a mark of bleeding ink; the choices that I’ve made.

A map with no direction. Entire corners now cut out. In a language you do not know nor have ever been taught about. Plus it’s 2am now. The deepest depths of the night. How are you meant to read a map with no access to a light?

If life is like a treasure map, where X marks the spot? Can’t I just avoid it? Leave my gold there to rot? Because I refuse to wander so blindly into the dark. Hunting for this unknown thing, as it sits there on its mark.

You see, life — it seems — is just a fortune. In a beige cookie it is rolled up inside. But it’s blank. It’s empty. A canvas, unwritten. What appears on it is for us to decide.

Poetry
Poem
Poetry On Medium
Writing
Life
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