The Cavefolk

By the first men we were punished
With a life not fit for vermin rats
Then and now, our lives are tarnished
Our only music – bats’ wing flaps

We dwell in caves, never to see the light
Such is our repentance for betrayal
So long ago we ran, when we had to fight
Oh, the past - so grim it a portrayal

They beat us, hounded us like wolves unto the end
Our women watched their children killed
The men just wept, for they could none defend
The rise of men the end our time would soon portend

And so in ashes we had died and then were born again
For in the bowels of the earth we found a holy glen
We found our peace, long lost and sought
For millennia we slept and our name forgot

We’d been once mighty, we’ve ruled the stars and Sun
But now we creep in caves, our songs unsung
And then a child was born, who thus soon spoke:
“We remember not who we were, but now we are Cavefolk”

The elders nodded sagely for there was nothing more to do
“Only a few awake are now, our time is gone and through”
So thus passed weeks and months and even years
As the child grew older, and wiser far than he appeared

From dusty scrolls and musty books he revived the Art
He urged the people to awake and follow their heart
Oh, but we were weak, and lethargy our greatest vice
We cared not that we’ve been paying far too high a price

So even the one who our magic rediscovered
Could not make us untie our binding tether
He left alone for lands above, to see the Moon
To smell the grass and hear the crickets’ tune

We did not expect him to return, nor did we wait
We fell once more asleep, accepting our fate
But then one day, by an underwater stream
He came back to us, and woke me from my dream

A putrid corpse, flesh of worms and rot
An arrow in his chest where he was shot
But still that face disfigured seemed to weep
With helplessness and silent, grim defeat

Yet none care even now, I alone awoke
Dug a grave and a short prayer for him I spoke
And then I shed a tear for miracles now lost
And for one who tried us in our grave accost

I see know that we’re doomed, slowly dying out
But I cannot summon any will to shout
Next to his tombstone I lie down and let dreams take me
Of the past I think, as breath and life forsakes me…


Commentary: a poem musing on the fact that sometimes the many are wrong and while the few are right, their deeds cannot change anything. All wrapped in a nice fantasy vibe, so you can take it literally as well.