Hidden Treasure

My mind often thinks in pictures. My job as a writer is to paint that picture with words. Today I feel very little words. I see an antique dresser. Nicks and scrapes etched into the dark grain, like wrinkles upon our old faces. It is plain, sturdy, and worn. My mind wants to know what is inside the drawers. I take my hand and open the draw. A loud creek, lots of dust and a million memories coming rising up into the air around me. I begin to push aside drab lace, musty silk and a few trinkets that barely remain intact. At the bottom of the draw is laquard box about the size of a hearty book. My eyes are drawn to this rectangle with an undenialble force of curiosity. My fingers quickly feel for the opening and with one flick of the latch its contents are about to be revealed. It is glorious. So glorious. My fingers begin to drag through through the strings of pearls intertwined, the gold in small knots and the jewels, oh the jewels. The colors jump from one to the next blending in my eyes like watercolors waiting to be swirled and stroked into something more than just a color. A form, a shape, an object, something with meaning and depth. My hands emersed in glamour find themselves unable to move. It is as if my hands just found the most glorious prize of all. Right there, in the plam of my hand is a ring of gold and ruby. The circle has no beginning and no end much like my promises to the ones I love. The ruby is deep is color, so deep it almost appears black. This is my heart. It bleeds with crimson love but it is beautiful, so beautiful. Circled around the ruby gem are specks of diamonds. Glittering, sparkling, full of life, depth and color it is drenched with enough beauty to cover the earth. Here it is, hidden beneath the daily finding of ones life. It isn’t fair. Something this gorgeous, this rare and unique cannot lay hidden among common things. It was made to shine. It was designed to stand apart. It craves to stand out. It demands attention as it so rightfully should. Its designers hands worked tedious hours to create this masterpiece. It is priceless.

I now see the owner standing next to the dresser on a monday morning. He walks past the dresser and can feel the jewelry glimmering through the wood grain. He stops in for a peak. One look, one glance, one feel and when he senses are filled and his eyes are pleased he closes the box and walks away. He steps out the door into his nine to five life never telling or showing of what he has. No one knows what he posseses. No one knows the beauty he has captured within a box. No one knows the mans wealth and no one sees what makes him smile one last time before he starts his day. No one knows that this rare gem is claimed and kept. Many will see photos of this rare piece of art. Many will seek a cost on such an item. It cannot be found and yet it cannot be taken. It is merely a living piece of beauty waiting to be released into the world. It does not seek credit for what it is not, it just wants others to see it upon the finest like it was intended to be. Worn, carried along, able to sparkle in the sun. How long must it sit in the box. Will anyone ever be willing to step out of fear and show the world what they hold? Maybe its beauty is just too bright. Maybe beautiful things were meant to be secrets. If that is the case, than I no longer want to be beautiful. what good is being found if no one knows that you are taken?