In mountains named for foolish fears,
Where a Dutchman vanished with his gold so dear,
Abandon old beliefs that bind and blind,
For there his fate was sealed, his secret left behind.
Then turn your gaze where the sun sinks low,
Toward the bird that dies yet rises, aglow—
Northward rise to peaks that guard the town,
Where trails wind round and round.
Seek the steep path of legend and truth,
Where once the elite dined in skies of blue.
From there begin to trace the hidden way,
To stones that guard the keys to my cache today.
It may be near, or farther than it seems—
You’ve reached the spot where I launched my dreams.
Move forward, look around, scan the sights with care,
Press onward gently if the trail leads there.
I can see the ugly towers looking down on my rocks—
My treasure hides safely in the shade from the sun's fierce
shocks.