Image for the poem Caves



maybe even moreso nowadays
I welcome the caves.
I see the caves in front of closed eyes.
Sometimes a white light winks from deep inside
or deep down rather.
It does not really matter.

Often I find myself exploring one of these caves or maybe several,
it does not really matter;
going deeper and deeper,
trying my best to avoid the stalagmites trying to pierce through to my soul.
The teeth of a giant mouth chewing me up,
maybe even spitting me out.

But I do not want to be spit out.
I want to be swallowed alive.
I want to continue, going deeper and deeper through these tunnels of my mind,
past the screeching bats, the skeletons of the many fallen “I's” of times before
to that light that is only sometimes there, far ahead as it is today.

I hear childlike laughter.
Maniacal laughter.
and rage.

I yell at them and they shrink away from the echo until they are gone.
The light blinks, winks rather like a flirty one final time before going out.
Now it is cold and it is dark but the journey has only just begun.

Often I go to the caves.
My caves.
My immortality, and I do not really know what I am doing,
why I am there,
what I am looking for.
I only know that I go and sometimes I see that light.
Whatever is waiting ahead.
I see the hieroglyphics.
Ancient campsites now strewn all over.

A journey of repetition and each time I get a little further ahead.
Maybe that light is not a flirting at all but the very soul.

You have your caves as well.


Written by michaelslove2 (Michael S. Love)
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