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The Memory Caves
In the chambers of the caves,
I sought refuge from all the moral forgeries
spreading over the land. Holding my lamp aloft,
I pursued solace in childhood alcoves.
In the chambers of endless caves,
I explored myriad twisting pathways
longing for the playful mirth of recall.
But Cerberus confronted me, snarling,
preventing my passage beyond his gate.
In the chambers of the caves,
I descended deeper into unconscious cavities,
finding vast chasms of terror, and
winding tunnels leading to oblivion.
I wept like a summer rain cloud.
This was all a terrible mistake, I decided.
How do I escape?
In the chambers of the caves,
I wandered, panicking aimlessly until
I stumbled into an illuminated hollow.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by dancers.
Festive music played as they circled me.
Here, I felt safety and delight.
Laughing and clapping, the dancers pranced.
How this confusing labyrinth brought me
here, I couldn’t guess.
In the chambers of the caves,
I soon learned I must continue my exploration.
Everywhere, there were caves for living and dying,
deep subterranes of experience. Jung called it
collective and archetypal. Others declared it
the physics of the soul, the quantum consciousness
of reincarnation.
Copyright ©
Thomas Wells
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