They mined through and went,
As though all darkness covered,
To have dug and living inside,
Their shovels too small to task,
Trouble in the way of old, so long;
At last it greets me another, another,
Once more I try my hand again, to live,
But I find his life so strange,
So strange I am distant to part,
Once I thought to bring together,
For last is she whose anger swept,
Ere ashore the soil that parts us,
For none, for whence they were;
Livid their imagination departs,
Ne afraid, ne perplexed, to live,
They wait and enjoin our party,
They dug together as we watched below,
They are in darkness whilst we carry,
Our light once so bold now a dot,
To the distant depths beneath flawed,
Our once bold light above now a star,
The more we shall dig our holes,
The more we shall see the stars,
To give space its name our prison,
Where is the sun that once gave heat?
Where is the moon that blessed us light?
No where, and soon they dug away,
They left their world into darkness,
They sought happiness but only illusion,
They worked for illusion and saw perfection,
When they got perfection, they were gone.

Ne is short for never

Category:
Civilisation, Life, Mysterious, Nature, Poetry, Works
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