(After Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung)

I shovel ego, conscious hoe in hand,
and cart personae, piles of self. The deep
infested tunnels, where I mine my dreams,
deposit crumbs of nightmares in my head.

The sweat from rolling over shadows, back
and up the tunnel ramp, projects my lust
through faces in the sun. For love to last,
I build a hill of crumbs that hate can’t break.

My shadow creatures ram their horns against
the tunnel walls. They pound through fossils, jewels
of trauma, busting faces out of jail.
Forgotten crimes supplant the new arrest.

And in these bestial shadows, working hard
to bury shame, my conscious hoe deceives
my inner dream. The crumbs rebel, destroy
the hill, and spread the truth amidst the herd.

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