Go to the south of the road where In the wilderness sits one who Has seen his nation’s full wealth, Held in his hands the treasury key, Has borne the trust, the security Of Candace, his queen. Go to where he sits, treasure locked In between his hands. Hear him Ask, beg, plead to have the treasure Chest opened up for him. Show him What he cannot see for himself. You have the key: turn it. Sit beside him; let the excluded One see the beauty of words like Amethyst and chrysolite fall From my mouth. Show him the emeralds That emblazon your sword; wield it. It will surely cut his heart. Go down to the water where the Crystal streams shall open up to Take him in, its child, made new, A new explorer in a land of jewels. Most of all, let him see the Ruby red that flows from me. And let the Humble One then humble Him who has known treasures vast Yet none like these, the treasures born Of death and silent sacrifice. Let him kneel, then, and throw His treasury key into the sea.