in a sea of syllables,

i grasp the edge of clarity.

rivulets of retrospect

mark the contours

of my cheeks.

the only solace

is in the silence,

casting lots

for what i seek,

as i search for gift

from a source bereft

in stalagmite gardens

of the meek.


i do not understand,

for knowing

has been shaken

from my hands.

i stumble in the dark

through the labyrinth

of sparks,

there is no comfort or provision

as i grow an inner vision.


© M.G. Iannucci 2018

Ink Drawing

4 thoughts on “Spelunking

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