Salty Tomb

Glass casing, metal walls.

Encapsulating what it is meant to be

A catalyst, a cage, a coffin

A tomb built for nothing but treats

Embalmed in plastic wrapping

While itself, not only a resting place

But a method, a working system

But with the swoop of sticky fingers

Ones that reached too far into sarcophagus

Delving into a temple never meant to be found

The system, the method, collapses

Brought down by overzealous hubris

Worn down through attempts to hold sacred what’s inside

Lay to rest now glorious keep

As though you’ve no longer any fight

Springs clicking through goo

You may fall, well aware

The order was never broken, by you.