Your senses will fall down strange, steep cliffsides.
Buried recalls will slip on fawning films.
Life will be washed away,
marking days with weights.
The warders of your brain will sink beneath
into a recess. A whirlpool of shade.
Where are the healing leaves on Trees of Life?
It will take lifetimes to locate the grove.
Some drug treatments will not cut the mustard.
They will not quench your brain’s raw,
writhing state.
These treatments will not have minds of their own.
Before we leave this Earth,
we will hunt out
the secret method that cuts the mustard.
We will locate the map that shows the way.
The treasure will be covered in thick dust.