What can't I live without?

Digging, digging, in the soil,

Sweat from brow drips as I toil,

Aching back, soaking shirt,

Deeper, deeper in the dirt.

Sun beats down upon my head,

Vision blurs as I see red,

Hands upon the shovel grip,

Whisper to myself, “don’t slip.”

I’m nearly finished, so I’m told,

Treasures buried I’ll behold,

Caverns filled with ancient gold,

Fortunes owned by kings of old.

I set my jaw and wipe my brow,

Digging harder, better now,

Flinging dirt, moving rocks –

*Clink*, my shovel hits a box.

A treasure chest! But what’s inside?

I lift the shovel, filled with pride,

And bring it down upon the lock,

I peer inside and stare in shock.

An empty chest, I feel dismayed,

This moment for which I’d hoped and prayed,

Rendered as nothing all I’d done,

In desert soil and heat and sun.

But hark! In darkened corner there!

An object small, but gold and fair.

Lift it high, sunlight gleams,

Stuff of legend, stuff of dreams.

In my back an aching cramp,

In my hands a golden lamp,

In my eyes a Genie’s home,

In my heart the wishes roam.

Rubbing lamp, man appears,

Trapped in lamp for countless years.

Wishes granted, filled with greed,

Convinced that wealth is all I need.

Gold is given,

Conscience riven,

Live a life of whim and pleasure,

Leave my friends for friends with treasure.

Parties, banquets, dining halls,

Mansions, limos, masquerade balls.

Towns, cities, empires build,

So why does life feel unfulfilled?

Despite the wealth of those I follow,

My life is empty, useless, hollow.

My friends have gone, my soul is torn,

Nightmares eat my dreams unborn.

I need to get far, far away,

I need to find somewhere to stay,

Where clink of coin and glass depart,

Peace of mind, peace of heart.

Genie lamp I call on you

Grant me to begin anew,

Take me to an island bare,

No people, houses, riches there.

Let me live alone, in peace,

Let this callous lifestyle cease,

Give me water, give me seeds,

Simple life, basic needs.

A place where one is separated,

A place unreachable, isolated.

Let NO ONE traverse the ocean between,

Empty blue sky and ocean green.

Wish is granted,

Self transplanted,

Clear blue sky, shining sun,

Horror rising – what have I done?

I cannot ever leave this isle,

Trapped by me in this exile,

I wish for home but Genie sighs,

Shakes his head while my hope dies.

My own wish has stranded me,

Not even I can cross the sea.

Faced with life alone, no hope,

I fear my final wish is… rope.

No! A single wish to me remains,

Hope, despite these self-woven chains,

I can never leave, cannot back out –

So what’s the one thing I can’t live without?

Some say it’s the special one they love,

Friend, spouse, daughter, the departed above,

Others vouch for far more worldly things,

Money, education, diamond rings.

But I can, and will live long without those,

That’s the truth about life: it comes and it goes.

There is only one thing I won’t live long without,

The answer to problems, the counter to doubt:

HOPE! Hope is lifeblood of humankind,

Fuel of dreamers, light for the blind,

Water in desert, peace with a spouse,

The bright shining beacon of heaven’s lighthouse.

Despair grips my mind,

But I’m not resigned,

Imprisoned by sand, trapped by the sea,

Genie, grant to me wish number three.

My wish is hope, vision to see,

Freed from the darkness that’s torturing me,

No more doubt, no more despair,

Show me a way out even if one isn’t there.

I close my eyes, my heart leaps within,

I deeply breathe out, and then breathe right back in,

I open my eyes, the genie is gone,

In his place stands a shovel, with my name written on.

I puzzle and wonder, and think for a while,

Then I pick up the shovel, dig in, and smile.

No one can cross the un-crossable sea…

But a tunnel underneath might set me free.

Oh it will take years, even decades, perhaps,

I may die while I’m at it; tunnels tend to collapse,

But I’ll dig every day, every night, every year,

Fueled by hope, no more doubt, no more fear.

Digging, digging, in the soil,

Sweat from brow drips as I toil,

Aching back, soaking shirt,

Deeper, deeper in the dirt.