there is something living, mythic

in certain objects from our youth

an unremarkable thing becomes a

totem of legend, plastic

suddenly alchemized crystal, illuminating

memory, worthless

yet containing a life lived, able to summon

something not just nostalgic, but basic

fundamental fractions of our innatemness,

resonating through a trinket

now an idol, holy relic,

connection to a self-past.

find it, swallow it, safe it.

time travel is precious.