You can keep the hidden treasures.
Look below and say:
these are my feet;
this is the Earth and
below
the substance
of year after year.
We spent days naming clouds.
There were shapes of animals.
Look up. You can
hear yourself blinking.
There is nothing here except this.
It is true it all comes back to
this hand,
these growing nails,
hair where there was
none.
No, I told you,
there is no meter
to maintain these words
in order.
There is only sky
and rock.
The true treasure of El Dorado
was what was not robbed.
Keep the change.
I am standing firmly here.
