Christa

There is a cave

Small, simple,

Yet strong through the years.

It has withstood the hot Winds,

The icy Winds,

The earth moving beneath it,

It stood firm.

It has seen other caves

Collapse,

Some by little red sticks

Planted by little stick people,

Imploded from the inside until they

Fell.

Some eroded away to nothing by the Winds,

Neverending and hateful Winds..

Some held treasures,

Each holding its own unique kind.

They did not last long,

The Sun gave them away

And they glistened until found, then

Destroyed.

Some were hollow,

Not a single thing inside.

Eaten and left hollow from the inside out

By the Animals inside.

For the small, simple cave

It did not entirely know what it held.

It hoped for something wonderful,

And yet at the same time,

Hoped for nothing…

Picks, metal, fire,

POW.

Clink, chink, crack,

Another fissure.

Day

After

Day.

With no support left,

The strong cave grew weak.

The Winds were incessant.

Little by little

The cave fell around the stick people.

Such thoughtless and remiss people...

Caring for nothing besides themselves and personal gain.

The cave was gone,

Never knowing what it held inside:

The most beautiful treasure of all, the...