NaPoWriMo – Poem #3

Into the Underworld

Our chanting leads the Seer
down her path,
winding, we follow.

Worlds on all sides
Like colorful crystal spheres
Microcosms, curious temptations.

To the gates we trod,
an army of seekers,
prodded on by the chant of our guide.

We stop at the entrance. Waiting.
Blind to what lies
beyond the Gate.

The gaping mouth opens to the Seer’s plea.
The undercurrent pulls,
beyond the threshold she goes.

Do not go through the Gate
We were told before our journey,
but it pulls at me,
as if the Underworld beckons.

My feet step forward,
But my heart recoils.
The call is too strong
And it takes all I can muster to fight
the undercurrent –
the pull of the dead.

One might say there is something
beyond for me.
I am not ready.

The Seer speaks.
The guide calls for questions to be answered.
It’s not my time.
The struggle is too great.
The Underworld holds no answers.
No comfort for me.
Not this day.

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