where crude logs nailed up like the Cross hide a makeshift tomb
and perceptions above were blocked to the miner trapped beneath
he died there without ceremony and without comfort
swallowed up entire by a dusted dark world freezing beneath indifferent stars
yet saw so far that even in his limited horizon he were a magnifying glass spying out the heavens through
the doors of perception
though the mine was all shuttered up
a history beneath a crypt
he died alone as any man must
Flynnpoetry 