Staring out the open casement
The nearby heath hides a hidden cache
Ancient loot is stored away, encased by the ground’s elevation
The groundskeeper is made to ready his spades
I take a conveyance to the site I believe to be a grave
Brave despite nascent night, by a brazier’s sawing light
The men did break through that inclined tomb
Within a womb’s darkness, a gloom which infinity knew
I made my way through, despite the baleful runes on stones now askew
Strewn on the heap with the rest, inside a ramp of uncertain depth led
Me deeper toward the pit of the place, I went gravefaced along the grave
Lane to the deepest forbidden nape of this cave in stasis
Glyphs long erased arranged in worrisome ways blazed like oiled staves
Adjacent stones formed the stations of an ancient passion
The solar compassion of the erections all but confirms it
Contradictions in the accepted record, obvious mythic connections
Laughing at my lectures the odious rows of howling professors
Moling their lives away bound to lecterns, I am deep in holes
Where only foxes and moles go, learning the role of the sun in heroics.
Alchemisland 
Leave a comment