A Secret Passage and a Cloud Covered Moon

In the back of my closet is a secret tunnel.

It’s a passage meant for seekers,

Fizzing, bubbling, and spinning down through the quarky nuclei of time.

I often watched them swimming towards that nano-second slit.

Not me, though; I had too many here who loved me, or so I supposed.

And I was dizzy with life, 

Smelling horses and leather saddles,

Smelling dry timber and wet growing twigs,

Smelling pine needles in the early morning.  

And I was afraid of the dark.   

I carry an inner lamp these days, with some crumpled money and silver coins.   
 There’s a cloud covered moon tonight I am told,

And there’s nobody knows how deep it goes. 

And I'll go along with the ride.