shreds and tatters

We are lost, gonners for sure. The donkey-beast has chewed its way into my sac...the map is all but consumed, the glasses are bent and lacking a lens, nothing else remains 'cept for a tiny, round crystal caught in a corner seam. So useless an object, surely it cannot be my unique 'gift'! I roll it absently in my palm...
Time is trackless on the billowing waves. I doze and wake with a start still clutching the bauble in my fist. Suddenly, my hand is afire and as I open my palm this strange image appears. I am confused...delirious perhaps, or driven mad by circumstance.