517. Empty Graves Without Name

There is a tall castle,

It looks lovely from the top.

The tower is inviting,

So passersby often go up;

To see the sea of green,

And to the fae, raise bounteous cup.

However, this castle,

Is a most sprawling domain,

With levels and rooms galore;

Though no one wanders without aim,

As each window and door,

Is locked with keys of their own name.

And each key rests below,

In the haunted dungeon halls,

Where the screams of yesterdays,

Still echo through the walls themselves;

And the terrors from those days,

Remain undusted on its’ shelves.

Thence, who would travel forth,

To seek out the truths within?

When blue skies are so pleasant;

And nature moves in expansion,

Adorning the present….

Burying tales without description.

Empty graves, without name.

K. Aldaya, 5/18/20

Picture: Originally by Evan Mitchell on Flickr;
https://wallpaperscraft.com/download/mask_bw_monochrome_124766/3840×2400