The Messenger (A Knight Carries; A King Weighs; A Queen Cradles)

In your childlike freedom, I possess you.
In our separateness is our embrace,

As a shadow to the sun.

Empty words fill the empty space.

A vision writhes in the primordial net

Of desire not yet made real—
At least, not to flesh.

I awoke from the dream with a wound I could feel;
One only ash and feathers could heal.

Still,

It is the heart’s intent.

Another mountain quest

Another Ark of the Covenant—treasure or vessel,

A locked vault. 

Wanted, sought.

Nested within 

An elegant chest.