Canticle

The cave beckons more, dark and all the stronger.
The cooling depths seductively sing
the siren’s song; the song of songs,

That note atonal and arhythmic,
the one base of all the chords
That binds one to the staved life,
herein the tedium of the everyday
Hides the te deum of the caverned darkness.

In the black drop there hides the glorious
spectacle of things not seen;
The lack of evidence (save one’s sick fear),
the substantiation sought.