How tiresome it is down here in the deepened pathways, with darkness so piercing that those only ‘fortunate’ enough could have a light fixed to their heads to light the way through the twists and turns of the seemingly never-ending labyrinth that so many called home. Where many bear the burden of that no other would wish for anyone, the daunting task of chipping away at the black treasure that they sought out… the only thing they worked for.

The heavy musk of the almost smoky air -that so painfully fills the lungs of those who gave the rest their leisure- lingers around the swings of the picks that cracks the wall with such force the strength of the strong is even forced to waver. The continuous motion of the cars on the track flying back and forth between ports scraping metal-to-metal, echoing endlessly through the shadows that all one day must learn to endure.

The loud rumble of the lift shakes the ground, like that of an earthquake bringing more and more men down into the depths of the work place. Pieces of treasure fall away from the walls around them, the fear of the fall no longer worrisome, just simply brushing away the fragments will do. Just don’t stop. Don’t stop blasting away at the eternal wall of darkness. Hope and pray that your light will not falter and the lifeline you share with others doesn’t fall from its perch ensuring the death of you as well. How odd it must be for them -the strong who work continuously through the trials of the mine- to place their life in the care of a creature so small. So fragile. The canary in the coalmine.