There are a thousand of them on the rainshadow slopes.
If you follow the landslides and the exposed veins of copper, you can hardly miss them.
They are frozen moments of time, carts and tools left scattered at the base-
As if someone stopped working one morning and walked away-
Never to return.
The miners dreamed big dreams.
Few became rich, but the gold sat heavy in the backs of their eyes.
I could compare their madness to writing.
I do not know if that is fair to either of us.
All I know is when I begin to type, I hold my breath-
And plunge eagerly into the darkness.
We scrabble in the darkness, searching for light
If you would like to see more of own attempts at uncovering treasure, I have also written a fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.