poemminer

I have been mining now
for half my life

maybe more

digging
and
always digging
deeper

I excavate
a black seam
in the hope
the yearning hope
that
what I find
is gold

the deeper I push
with my shovel
and pick
with my hands

the blacker
the darker

the more golden
my findings

I no longer believe
I could stop

I do not believe
I could
now
find a way
to stop

the black gold
has claimed me
for the days
for the rest
of my life

but
that
is no hardship
to me
with my tools in my hand

I am a miner

the deeper I go
the clearer the darkness
until even the mysteries …

I understand them

I shine my light
in
illumination

I’ve been mining
a black seam
a dark seam
for thirty long years
maybe more

every time
I strike
with my pick into the black
I feel hope
anew

a solemn hope
renewed
that I might find
will find gold


© Frank Prem, 2017

October 2017 Poem #25: she walks

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