Tomb

Blinded by our history

We flirt with pharaoh’s wrap

A mesmerizing mystery

Mistaken for a trap

A scan, perhaps, for silken thread

While treasures cloaked within

Are dismissed with a doleful dread

As momentary whims

In darkened corners, swept away

Those cobwebbed, orphan thoughts

Gems deemed unfit for display

And gold mixed in with dross

Instead, we stagger at the cost

Of rejecting common coins

Worn faces that remain embossed

With echoes of old noise

Our fortune’s failure to entice

Leaves the future derelict

Convinced that habits will suffice

We assemble our own crypt