Long john's tale

What are you running away from? What are you hiding? What is it that you have hidden away for so long? And how deep have you buried your little treasure?
This is not Long John Silver’s Treasure Island and there is no bottle on a dead man’s chest – though a few skeletons you may find.Dont dig too deep – chipped bones of a dinosaur era – delicate as china – fragile egg shell footprints of my past life.
Buried under rocks and in the shady shelter of overgrown trees – in the warm hollows and the little spaces which are easily overlooked; when it rains – no it never rains it pours on this tropical isle of mine – the waters run down the hill slopes – carrying with it the mud and the stones. The pillars of my stability, the backbone of my existence – broken down by the elements into pebbles which roll down the slopes and collect in the crevices – in the little hollows and the shelves hidden from your sunshine. My life gets broken down and hidden away – all stored in secret code. The past cannot be brought back – reconstructed to the grand stones – and it is by choice.
The thunderstorms and the showers – I like it when they belt upon me; the waves lashing my share changing my shape and my form –eating me away. I know the calms will come again- I will expand, I will grow, slightly altered but still me, there is hope This is my life – seasons and cycles, turbulent tiresome torrid sickness and calm. The rocks and the shadows, the seagulls in the sunset all will rise again, Full glory body burn – rejuvenated broken down – everyday and again.
Don’t you come near – not with your pick axes or your pneumatic drills – the treasures I buried them deep. I know their shape and their form but I broke them down and I am not selling the map. That’s my escape, it is the most effective way.