Welcome to Volume 6 of Quickwords, my poetry series. Of all the volumes thus far, this one probably contradicts the name of the series the most.
| In a heart of the Earth |
| Pellucid beads of terran ichor trace eroded rock They travel in a long destiny of perpetuity Humble to continue a beautiful journey that will never end The former raindrops course telluric fangs and leap into the serene chasm air Then fall into prismatic beams of a distant sun Their union brings a flash of luminance upon wide, welcoming arms of stone Sprouts who smile at the slivers of sunshine now giggle Every dance of bent light is like a kick of spice to a decadent meal Their sighs of joy spread positivity and comfort Which small, skittering companions accept with gracious wonder Then use as they scuffle about Their tiny, delicate bodies snipping at sprouts and smaller neighbors As the droplets plop in calm, crystalline puddles of their precursors The cave continues to breathe Sprouts and their microscopic friends smile at their solar meal And pay their respectful duty to the dining of others The creatures eat and scamper about, living lives of simple work And when they finally rest, they lend their bodies To the very neighbors from which they had taken life Life returns, sprouts grow, miniscule bits of nature animate What were once and what forever will be raindrops continue to leap from terrene jaws Each gentle plop like the tick of a second hand In a heart of the Earth, countless cycles continue |
| the caverns |
| It gave a child a toolbox and let him surrender to impulse The pursuit of all that glimmers He desired to have that meaningless title, winner though he neglected the blatant arrogance that detests most, he, like all, held a destructive narcissism It watched as he struck a pickaxe into rock The fervor against that which he called bored To get away, he assailed the earth in search of ore his understanding of the tools before him was only to hit Hit, hit, hit, and do so with reckless abandon It watched as this boy grew older and wiser He realized, in milestones of clarity, the mess he had made Tunnels formed in disorder Walls made to crumble Paths buried in rock Foundations left unstable Lost, he was, always had been, only now to realize Years had he dug himself deeper he questioned the value of the treasures found Some were mystical, brilliant gemstones, unparalleled in subjective value Others were flecks of metal with no worth beyond allure to an infantile mind It watched him descend deeper, both into earth and madness Perhaps there was a way out, he reasoned Direction was furtive and a beguiling herring of crimson He trekked old paths and met only dead ends and walls of crumbled rock Nothing remained to adorn the earth but the cracks he had left Few true treasures had ever been, and he now possessed them He whistled as he walked in the shadows of the caverns flipping bronze coins belonging to long obsolete systems of currency Heads or tails determined right or left at every turn this got him nowhere A search for new strategy saw that he began to tap the walls He began to push boulders and clear blocked tunnels Perhaps this could free him Perhaps this plan could work It watched as the earth caved in on him As rocks crushed his chest and squeezed the air from his lungs, he spat obscenities on feeble breaths, cursing that which had allowed him to dig himself so deep into the caverns It watched him as he cursed at it It did nothing. He crawled out of the rubble and stumbled on healing bones He panted on ragged breaths and searched for water — a spring, a ravine, anything to replenish the tears he had lost With every slow step he feared another collapse Feared if this was to be his life Wandering the caverns in desolation, ever vigilant for a collapse Always on alert, just to make sure things did not get worse than they already were He dared not move any rock, nor knock on any wall, nor so much as nudge any boulder He could not run the risk Grief became anger. Why had that strategy failed? He had made an attempt at extrication but had succeeded only in excavation New holes and cracks littered the caverns He had failed. He had no strategies left. But he did not want to remain The caverns were a prison in which he was sentenced to life It had given him these tools and allowed him to recklessly dig and now he was here, trapped He slowly began to dare once again Rocks he dared move, walls he dared knock upon, boulders he dared push The prospect of eternal damnation infuriated him Die he would not until every option had been exhausted Just as him Many cave-ins were small, but there were cave-ins nonetheless He continued to unravel the terraneous web into which he was strung His hands and arms protested He choked upon dust, too parched to cry When he picked up the tools that he believed had doomed him and splintered walls and smashed through blockades of debris he thought back to that which he had cursed in times of catastrophic collapse That which had given him these tools and allowed him to dig himself so deep into the caverns Whispering into dusty air, he said, “Thank you.” For though it had allowed him to fail, it had given him the instruments of success Though it had made him into a problem, and it offered no solution It never did, not to anyone But it gave him the ability to solve himself He swung his pickaxe onto stone He stomped his shovel into dirt He utilized the instincts that his journey had brewed in him to move boulders to climb steep cliffs to evade falling stalactites to navigate fields of stalagmites he undid the destruction he had wrought upon himself The toolbox it had given him was not a weapon of destruction Just as It, the toolbox was neutral Saw no unnecessary evil but no unconditional good It did nothing but watch What he did with what he was given was his own decision He had allowed it to be a curse He now made it into his blessing Experience many more cave-ins he did Crushed under tombs of rock he was Starved and dehydrated he found himself to be Exhausted, muscles burning, always vigilant, he had to be But as days the caverns seemed less dark Light came from nowhere detectable He did not notice that he was in sunshine until he paused to step back from the rock around him and saw that he was no longer in the caverns He was in mountains, gorgeous, impossibly majestic mountains He saw cascading waterfalls and coursing rivers and beautiful lakes He saw verdant forests and flocks of birds and herds of beasts He saw humble villages and mighty cities and soaring planes over roaring plains And he breathed fresh, brisk air On he trekked through life He did not abandon the toolbox; instead, he found its many uses Those instruments of his ability he used in countless ventures Hidden crystals and treasures did he find with a miner’s talent Mazelike woods did he navigate with instincts long cultivated Frigid, dire straits did he swim with muscles toned from his efforts City lights did he appreciate with eyes trained to find glimmers of hope Catastrophes he did endure with the hardened heart he held It watched him through all It had given a child a toolbox and let him surrender to impulse It had watched a man survive his first of many trials The caverns. |
