Darkness/Well

Darkness.
Warm, warm darkness fills the hall,
and quiet comfort paints the walls.
Unseen corners creak and hum,
waves collide and come undone.
On this side a subtle flash
winks and mocks the sickly, old past.
Now,
the past is stirred in its deep, dark hall,
but the hall was too dark and too deep after all.
And so we just passed, and passed, and passed our pasts,
until our dirty hands were clean at last.
So,
with our clean and painted fingers
we'll pick up the bells of the doomsday ringers
and we'll dance, dance, dance as we unscrew our own hinges.

(Well,
we found ourselves under the waves,
dimly remembering a different age.
Our water-smoothed edges used to be raw,
but we just tightened our eyelids to the world that we saw.
But even when blind, we could all still hear,
so we began the fine-tuning of our quivering ears.
Then we stepped further back inside of our heads,
padded our cell walls and then called them our beds.
And no one could hear as the rain started to fall,
we all just rolled over and got submerged by it all.)