Whenever he thought
he was on the brink of understanding himself
better than before, he would have 
the same vision of being buried deep,
carried by unknown people into a cave
in a procession lit
by a single white torch.  
They’d place him at the back of the cave, 
alone with the torch, laid out on the stone floor
in the dim light until the flame died,
at which point he’d get up and stare 
at the prehistoric walls
and see upon them fantastic pictures
of dancing beings of light and air
trapped incongruously below.
Then he’d shake himself
loose from the vision and come up 
to ground level and try and try 
to bring those beings with him,
or at least to tell their stories,

and he would fail
and fail again
but each time, he’d look forward
to returning to the cave
to try and fail 
and fail again.