Grave Robber


I pilfered from a tomb today

Dust caked its sterile walls while paintings of beauty beyond measure hung for spiders to observe

A larger tomb acting as a time capsule of someone not with us anymore

Standing silently for anyone to return

A place of familiarity, why was not clear

They seemed to value knowledge, judging from the volume of books lining the shelves

Solemn and cold with a lonesome presence filling every corner of the rooms

Empty of life beyond the wilderness outside beginning to take back the plot it occupied

The splitting of the spoils came next

5 of us in all began to run amok with echos of our movement bringing signs of life not seen recently

Frantically searching the containers untouched for what felt like a century with

Contents of a time far passed my present

Out of it all, the writings are what spoke to me

All the books contained notes or sayings scribbled about the pages

Various letters from and to people in this person’s life sat dormant within the binding waiting for their owner to rediscover them

Only to get strangers, some with heavy hearts

Why didn’t I feel anything?

Its not as if I did not go through this before

The proceeding felt similarly callous, lacking any context

But it was the way they wished to live their life

Alone without the nuisance of others

Could I have learned more from them under a different circumstance?

The thought of having more time with them was taboo

They never wanted attachment or comfort of others, at least it seemed

Maybe this is why I did not mourn…
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