It is the ancient light we need, not a modern, plastic torch.
Its fleeting, battery-maintained time
Is handy for short trips only and will not facilitate.
It is a Roman fire that burns in the darkness,
Unyielding to the rage when the elements
Time after time try to trouble our nights.
It is an ancient tunnel we need
For our ancient flames to place at the end. A tunnel of old,
A long-forgotten passage under rocks and ocean
To the other side of what happened to our lives.
There is no such light and there is no such tunnel.
Million lifetimes have faded since they were lost.
No one knows where to dig any more and many deem it
But a legend, a wistful tale for who wants to be released.
Will we try? Nothing to lose if we do, it seems.
Ten broken fingers maybe, for one must labour with bare hands.
This is not much. If we unearth the way in, we’ll find the way out.