Toil of an old miner

A puff of air escaped his half-opened mouth through his soiled teeth

And a silent shriek he let out when he found his vision lost in darkness steep

Slowly he recalled of the inner wall caving in

And helpless cries of his fellow workmen making up all the last heard din

Not a human head or hand in sight

One light tap on the head lit up an unwilling flickering camplight

And all he saw was sandy earth and solid rocks to share his plight

The fear of crawling creatures rang the bells of the danger imminent

For he knew the bite of a scorpion is so very powerful and potent

When he decided to crawl and grind his way out

He tried hard to free up his trapped legs

In one all-out effort he did succeed

And then succumbed to the walls which rested his back

He started crawling with his tool bag on his back

Tried to make his way through those giant boulder rocks

Crawling, creeping, stooping however he could

Round and round he went about

Unexplored nooks and incredible crevices

He searched the cave across it’s breadth and depth

An unwilling maze runner in this glorious dance of life and death

No blue sky, nor a fallen leaf

All he could hear was his inner cries of grief

Then the dreadful dread came

His eyes caught of something slither by

Would it be a viper’s fang which would seal his fate

Or some other mischievous creature of the dark

His breadth went into a rasp

He moved forth taking rapid and hurried gasps

For the rocks so cold and air so thin

His lively life slowly went into an energyless bin

Toil he did on the terrains unknown

His parched lips screamed for water

Death came knocking under the veil of task

But an old miner that he was

No stranger to these weaknesses of lesser men

He came upon a crevice with a gap so wide

May be thought the grass is greener on the other side

With one great hope and a lungful of air he made the destined jump

Up he was in the air, hanging in the empty space where caves don’t bump

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, when he found his feet touched ground

He found his hand wet upon something

And a small hope came rushing by

For where there’s water, there has to be a way

He crawled along this slippery path

Crumbling and holding on to steep edgy rocks

With mere fingernails and inches of the toe

Down, sideways, up he did the math

His eyes caught on to a beam of light

Shooting herself through a small crevice

This infallible guide made all the difference

And he found the source of the mess he was in

A puff of dusty air escaped his lungs

The life within rejoiced from his half-open mouth

The feets and palms had begun to wear out

Knees beginning to crumble

Yet life bloomed as life met life

No more the smell of pungent air

A spring breeze breathed into him

He climbed up and stood over the ground.