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