I am setting out, on a poetical journey, from the heights, to the depths, from horizon to horizon. Interweaving, with commentary, views, and random observations on a variety of topics of interest to me, and hopefully to others as well.
Catacombs have always held a fascination for me, and I am using the image it induces, as a metaphor for my life’s journey. When you think of them, you imagine an old, dark and damp place. A maze that goes on and off in all directions, I see that as the path of life. You never know where one road might take you, or one door, instead of the other.
Chamber after chamber, in the depths, beneath a lively, vibrant city above. There is the light above; the known, and the dark below, the unknown. Mysterious, but intriguing and inviting. Once you enter, will you be able to navigate your way through?
Will you meet with the souls of the departed who lie resting in their tombs? Those who once lived, their blood pulsing, hearts beating, thinking, feeling, breathing souls, who for a time existed, now reduced to dust and bone.
The city above, moves about at it’s frantic pace, unaware and uncaring of what is buried below. They are forgotten. Generations, and centuries have passed, so long ago, but they still live. Their descendants atop; a testament to those who used to be.
If they could awake and rise again, like Lazarus; breathe in fresh air, and be born again, their skin warm, eyes open, what stories could they tell? Maybe they would choose to remain in their stone beds. This world so alien and different to them.