Catacombs

Cool and dark,
smelling of age,
and death.
Ossuaries stacked
with the remnants
     of dreams,
     of pain,
     of potential
          unattained.

We are all
keepers of our crypts;
and attend faithfully
to the remains
of that which
     has gone,
     has passed,
     has disappeared
          into time.

We must take time,
make the effort,
and rise to the light,
leaving dust and death
to entomb themselves:
     we would shine;
     we could triumph;
     we would wonder
          in the bright new morning.