The Hole

The truth
has to buried
down here somewhere.

I enter cannily
prepared for
a long slow journey.

The light of my candle
flickers as if
it can fail.

It is through
the basement of my old house
that it opens.

Sub-floors and
catacombs never explored
behind a door of wooden slats I could nearly remember,

as if the truth
were hidden in the realm
of devils.

I walk in alone
peering at the cells of my brain
amazed at how huge I am.