The Pilgrimage

A staircase
Of one hundred twenty five thousand
Skulls

Leading down
Deeper, deeper —
Thousand times as many bones as skulls
Rotting corpses
Those who descended before you
Clogging the staircase

A stinking passage
You start to wade through —
But halfway
The stench becomes unbearable —
Drives you back

You fetch fuel
Pour it down
Light the match —
Set the staircase ablaze
Burning downward
And upward

You sit —
Wait for it to burn clean
And then —
Begin digging
Through the ash

When you reach the bottom
The solid ground
You find —
Nothing

Just a dark hole
And a pile
Of spades