Fading to an underscored reality,
Unfeeling of a bewildering history,
I Sink into the echoing

Shhhhhh!

murmers of stone walls,
Hewn of stone with the sweat and the flesh of history.

There would seem to be a presence of an unseen nature,
Almost dream like. Perchance I should fall
And smash my elbow on the walls,
My blood shall mingle with the sweat and flesh and stone
That joins centuries past and present.
The dream like qualities fade
And domineer. I fall.

I would leave my blood as a solemn but sure connection
To a future I dare not hide, but dare even less to show.
That sweat and pain and toil had been left for me, in
Some other past,
Where nothing was not the same, but for the
Addition of the sweat,
The flesh and the stone.

The time remained the same.
The existence never changed.

Only my blood changed, from being in the body to being
On the wall.
Mingling with the history that makes this present
Some other future,
And this future, just another past,
I stepped down.

Descending the carved stairs, dry blood caked onto the elbow
And the wall that rended the skin,
Historic echoes perceived, closing in,
Descending upon me as I descend the stairs of these catacombs.

Whose hands toiled and sweated to make these walls and why?
Surely not for I, that I may venture here and
Leave my own bloody streaks upon arms and walls.
Surely not for those who would come after me.
Perhaps for those who went before,
Perhaps for themselves.

Some legacy sent these people underground –
Yet I question my own assumptions.
Some aspirations of security,
Some driving fear – but fear not now,
The warrants of those fears are long gone,
Deep within the walls,
Deep down these stairs.

I stumble upon the bones of others who had gone before.
These bones, were they walking up or down these stairs?
Were they leaving, afraid of what they’d found?
Or were they entering, knowing not what they’d find?
They never made it, either way.

The grim terror grips, wrenches my soul
As with one almighty gasp I am lost in darkness.
Am I ascending, or descending these stairs?
Stricken thus, now I’ll wait until

SHHHHH!

murmers of another time
Tell me where I am going, and of what went on.
I shall bear witness to what went on,
For I am responsible.

Now I am drawn here,
Now I am trapped here.
Future and past mingle into one overwhelming present,
Streaming blood and sweat and stone through time.

Justice will be served.

I have been sentenced.
My blood through time.

I wait.