Spelunker

Venture deeper, for the cave makes life writ
Cacophonies echoing from cracks in a fire pit,
Screaming damnable gusts in that dredge
Mud, grime, slopping to fill every edge.
Ne’er a clean morn in this cave I mourn
Only ripples and stirred dust are born.
Creaking lung, aching mind, weary bone
Chains ceaselessly mend every time I atone,
Craving a day where clarity drenches clean
Torrents flooding to drain and raise new green.
For oil scum of decayed and withered days
Cruelly enraptures my world in its daze.
This cave whispers curses of all it witnesses
Details exact, obsessively never misses.
Perfection must be carved into filthy silt
Or blood be drawn and thy virtue shall wilt.
Oh, moon, thy light enlightens the keen
Embalming wretched woes that shan't be seen.
Imperfection is weakness begging for abuse
Which eyes may gaze solely in a truce,
Not venturing further than they’re given say,
I’ve secrets ‘neath the ooze and there they stay.