golden egg

Golden egg,

Glitters back at me from the water.

Half buried in the silt,

Yet still glistening through the murky pond.

I long to reach out and touch it.

The closer I get, the more I sweat,

Red drops beading on my forehead to drip down, down to join its brethren beneath my feet.

The quicksand pulls my foot down, but no matter,

I can finally trail my fingertips against the top of the egg.

And it shines.

It glows until I can only see a blinding white.

Before I know it, I myself am in the silt,

Buried up to my neck,

Staring up at what can only be described

As me.