What if they’re upset?

                                                  starts the slow descent 

                                               into the cave. What if

                                            they’re mad at me? 

                                          I squelch into dirt. What if 

                                      they hate me? I sink deeper    

                                    and deeper into the earth. 

                                   I’m stuck. 

                                 Limestone

                              slowly collapses

                                around me

                                       I’m stagnating.

                                    Fear of man is turning inwards,      

                                            spiralling, making everyone

                                                    happy to feel safe, but

                                                          the cave is airless.

I like to think I’m a curious person. Or perhaps more accurately, I aspire to be a curious person. It’s not because I think curiosity is a moral category. It’s not a fruit of the Spirit. And yet I’m increasingly convinced it’s a trait I want to possess. And in possessing it, I’ll gain something good.