It is deep inside

at the back of the cave

where warmth never reaches

where the lick of the flame

is extinguished

by shadow

 

Something invisible

guards the black hollow

where eyes lose light

like a brain

behind thin skull

its fragile brilliance cowers and coils

 

It waits

for the unwitting word

that carelessly encroaches

with wickedness and abandon

it protects a lost library of hope

from where things could be rescued

 

Hostage to itself

such thoughts are not to speak

that they might bring light

to reveal the crooked frame

which only ever recoiled

at ideas which might set it free…