The West-gate Passage

Hollow, so hollow where shoals went washing down

Swiping steps of remnant dust into nihilistic holes of empty sound

The grueling clinch of anguish, while the body presses on

Another rush from Odin's mead, with another mile to cross.

Trickled: the ancient creek-bed, splashing through proto-rocks,

A lowly chasm of a million tons rests where we read our thoughts.

Calcite clouds adorn this roof of mouth swallowed in the Durin Pit

Dwarfing bones on an adventurous stroll in the Morian depths descent 

The diamonds scatter when light breaks and the shelves bite with iron-jaws 

Six go in, five come out... Just leave me where I stop.

 (Written inside Buckner Cave near Bloomington, Indiana September 7th, 2024)