Catacombs [jason]

echoes ring down empty chambers of musty catacombs
scents of dirt and dust in damp shield the hallowed hollow
stacked in walls,
   withered and dry,
   the wounded memories loom
and they hint to the living,
   of the unforgiving grave,
   grip and swallow

and still she follows down darkened hollow passageways,
   a torch
illuminating bones and marrow of death and sorrow,
   sleeping
her thoughts and feelings,
   dead and unliving,
   resulting from the search
for love or life or laughter kept thereof
   in the paths of her mind's dark keeping

the paths designed for weeping,
   wrap deep and wallow in guilt
and still she follows the shapeless specter
   carrying the flickering flame
seeking life, peace or joy amidst ancient underground ruins built
to house in unescapable lonely chambers,
   the pain and shame

so I call out her name,
   to come out from below and into the sun
to leave the quest for life in the mistakes of the past
and seek new love of light above
   because the curse of death is undone
   and answers lie within the eyes of one who calls her name at last
   and breaks free the chains that dead damned demons cast