Cave Swamp

Into to the deep dark, into  nothing and out into chaos, I erupt through stifled anticipation and excruciating patience. The day wastes away and sunlight dare not drip into this sable cave of stone mud and wet soil. It tunnels deep into the earth, far beyond that which the mind could imagine. Eyes do not see in this place, though, behind the horror, this is a system of unfathomable beauty. Narrow routes open to grand halls and galactic caverns, they delve deep into crystal pure waters, cool as an ocean of spring. Move through the bounty of treasure and crystals, the mines of gold and stores of rare metal, and find the hole I have dug. Beauty ceases in this mysterious corner I have discovered. Here is where the swamp starts. It is infinite; I have dug my shovel into it for twelve thousand millennia. I find myself tired; I sleep for weeks at a time now that I am aged. My arms are thin, my belly bloated with infections and swamp worms. I sleep without thought, to escape the spirits that roam the caves above. I wish to escape the fear of impending tomorrow. The swamp holds time still for me, preserves me in pain. Sleep is my anathetetic. This is the balance I know. My pupils turned white when this messaged appeared before me in the endless dark. I see only sense and feel nothing but an infinite diminuendo of turmoil buzzing through my cardiac system. This cave is my home, the swamp my bed; my soul will never leave here, it knows not how to cope anywhere else.