Spelunking

If you’ve reached the highway, you’ve gone too far.

Off the beaten path,

finding the entry

among the boulders.

Descend with sure footing,

and with friends–

you all keep your senses sharp.

Don’t lose focus,

help will be hard-pressed

to find you here.

Curiouser, and curiouser,

your whispers echo above your heads,

graffiti disrespectfully lining

the interior, sparse now.

Few and far between are those intrepid enough

to venture here.

The sound of running water,

trickling from above, splattering on the ground

the air is electric,

undiscovered.

Torches aloft,

cavernous,

closed off, wide open.

Verdant moss,

refracted through crystal pillars

jutting out,

shimmering scaffolding and glowing obelisks

in the underground oasis.

Barren and full of life,

keep your wits about you,

you are here,

where no one’s been.

Olm

Life in the undercurrent,

isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

If I could still see,

I’d tell you all about it.

But I’m not complaining, believe me,

I get by.

No one bothers you down here,

unless they’re really asking for it.

Lazily,

though I prefer “efficiently,”

Sliding through nooks and crannies.

I spend my time,

sidewinding,

along dark-as-night,

limestone-lined,

walls to find,

fissures filled with my friends,

hopefully I’ll be the first to find food.

Life here is slow, simple,

beautiful in its brutality,

we’re up to our necks,

in fresh,

cold water,

and little else.

I wish I could tell you more,

or give you some clues,

but you can’t see what I do.