The Hole
The truth
has to buried
down here somewhere.
I enter cannily
prepared for
a long slow journey.
The light of my candle
flickers as if
it can fail.
It is through
the basement of my old house
that it opens.
Sub-floors and
catacombs never explored
behind a door of wooden slats I could nearly remember,
as if the truth
were hidden in the realm
of devils.
I walk in alone
peering at the cells of my brain
amazed at how huge I am.
Copyright © Don Schaeffer | Year Posted 2012
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