Part I: The Tunnel

PART I: THE TUNNEL [ahhhhh; sleep is such a precious thing; but, sometimes, I dost dream too much….] Slumbering, slumbering, I finally awake With remembrances of my warm bed in my heart. But as I scratch my eyes, the cobwebs to shake, My bed dost feel like stone, and anxieties start. At once, with rigor, I claw my eyes open, But my eyes do not see what they thought they’d see. Instead of wakening to my familiar den, I waken to a room dark, as dark as can be. I reach my hand’s down, to push off the mattress; But there is no mattress, only rock unrelenting. But, still I sit up, to make more of this mess, And stare out at darkness; blackness unending. Afraid to move, I sit still, and continue my stare, In a while, my eyes start to adjust a bit; Hoping for something, anything, my senses to share; I see veins of light in the walls of my pit. Slowly, slowly, I gain enough of my sight, To make out some things I couldn’t before; Soft hues of purple and yellow, but not bright, But enough light to see, what’s here and afore. In truth, I am sitting, on a black stone bed; Instead of my room, I see a black stone walls. But, there is a way out, oh yes I can see; For there is a tunnel, that beckons and calls. I rise from my bed, and head for the entrance; I know in my heart, there’s no other way out, A mirror I find at the opening perchance; The reflection of a man, haunted, no doubt. I sense, at once, that the mirror is an opening; First, one leg through, and then my head and torso, At once, I am through; the tunnel is beckoning; Downward it plunges, if I choose to do so. So, here I stand, at the edge of the tunnel; Downward it spirals, and lit very dimly; Fear I reach back, no mirror do I fondle; There’s no way out, I proceed rather grimly. So I take one step, and another; I descend; Tho I am sure that it’s into hell I walk; My hands touch the walls, as I reach the first bend; Warily, I look past the veer, ready to balk. But I see only a tunnel, still spiraling down, So I make the slope, and continue my way. [Hark! What’s that?] A skittering sound, down by the ground; But I can see nothing, must keep my terror at bay. Now, at the next turn, the sound has grown louder; Skitter, skitter, scrapple, scrapple, it sounds like to me. Cold with fear, I clutch the wall, and pray my heart be stouter; For there’s no place to run, I must make the turn you see. With heart in my throat, and blood like ice, out I veer; And peer down the pit, while hoping nothing will grab; And, there on the floor, I see the cause of my fear; A bug, big as a dog, it’s a beetle, a scarab! [And, it’s approaching me now…………]The start of a long, bad, dream...but wait; maybe it's not really a dream! Comments, please. By the by, that one line that ran over was supposed to be two separate lines, sperated at ....share;I see....No matter how much I edited it, it still came out li Written August 25th, 2001 © on Aug 25 2001 10:53 AM PST, Brazos Mason   0 • 10