Mystic Missionary

I see you lighting candles,
silently.
Your feet whisper
through fine silt;
your shadow is
giant
bouncing off cave walls.

You kneel down,
blow on earth,
reverant,
rise to stretch,
your hands spread
toward images,
records on rock.

Supplicant,
you ask for secrets
to be revealed,
you quilt pieces of stone
into a story.

I can see you dancing
while no one watches.
Inside your head drums beat,
men howl,
their echoes tickle your mind
across millenia.

Who will be here a thousand
years from now to know your dance?

Someone like you.
Someone like me.