The Progression

Walking through the fetid
subterranean pipe,
the blood blows past me
like some archaic wind,
uninterrupted and unyielding,
eroding everything that
chances to pause too long.
The drummers in the distance
keep me on task.
Steady.
Two beats and pause,
two beats and pause.
“March on now soldier,
she’s just up ahead.”
I trudge onward like a drone
driven by a singular instinct
to survive,
to learn,
to know.
The cadence quickens,
The blood becomes louder,
I cannot feel my legs,
my eyes are blinded by the dust
of ten-thousand rusted swords.
Two beats and pause,
two beats and pause.
Their demands become louder,
“She’s just ahead,
you cannot stop.”
The tunnel is endless.
I have no memory of when
I began this forced advance.
Where did I come from?
Who am I?
Who is she?
None of that matters.
I cannot stop,
I cannot turn back.
I am the search.
I am the progression
of madness into
nothingness
until there
is no I
am
.

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