The Cave


Narrowed entrance, beckoning

Facing ages of indelible fear, she follows

Descending, deeper still

On bended, reverent, trepidus knees

With white-knuckled fingers and gripping, dirty palms

Lead by his hand, they proceed

Air changing, from fresh and crisp

To cool and threatening, stale and hollowed

Dampness pulling at her warm flesh

Airless air, stifled lungs

Thum-dum, thum-dum, resounding in her chest

Blackness, closing in

Yet, deeper, onward they go

In trust, she follows

Around pointed pitfalls and sinking stumbling blocks

Guided by his light

And the friction-made, sturdy smoothness

Etched with souls and memories

Under their fingertips

Exhilarated in their adventure, in the conquer

His whispered words in her ear command

Shedding fabric and inhibition

Penetrating and primal

Their echoes joining a thousand immortal voices

Sharing a spirited narrative

Breathless, they emerge

A piece of them left behind


11 thoughts on “The Cave

  1. I understand this feeling. Knowing you will follow him wherever he chooses to take you, secure in the knowledge that he will not only guide, but protect and love you through the entire journey. Beautiful.

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