MYSTERY

A journey into the my soul. The question "Who goes there?" seems more demanding than "Who am I?"

MYSTERY
by
Wynton Burke

In the silence of my own silence,
I hear nothing.
In willing compliance,
Heart throbbing,
I approach an entombed darkness.
Descending ancient worn stairs,
deeper into a fearful abyss.
Beset with palpable fears,
“Who goes there?” I ask,

in the silence of my own silence.

Author's Note

Poetry, not coming naturally to me prompts me to seek an evaluation. Any feedback would be appreciated.