He Winced At The Thought.

He winced at the thought.
But
though it was night
He let the skeleton
show him his way
through the tunnel.
Ah! neon lighted
tunnel
turning red of light!
As centuries passed in it
How felt he aged
And
yet
his body was the same
grinned
the guiding skeleton
and rattled
his teeth in joy:
yet
spoke he not.
Midst of the tunnel
a cemetery of
skeletons
all lying upwards
and
as he went
by the third skeleton
it moved one bony hand to
its hollow eye:
recoiled he
turned the guiding skeleton
motioned him on and on
and
from there
as inwards
into that tunnel penetrated
he
though skeletons moved
he was as one of them
for
he had now no fear
and winced not.

by Emmanuel George Cefai

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