Some tunnelers turn rescuers,
retracing walls and bracing paths

with urgency past broken trust,
through sinking fear and blinding dust.

They prop up rock, the failing beam
that lets a passage see collapse

though others slump defeatedly,
give into shivers, swiftly lapse,

and let but shadows block a way
between life and the light of day

when everyone should strike at stone,
risk injury, a broken bone,

expending all essential breath
to fend against the threat of death.

As torches fade, and all goes dark,
it may well come to that one spark

of perseverance in a voice
or optimism in a choice:

the thing that lends a golden glow
wherever wonder dims to woe

just long enough to kindle hope
so some proceed while others cope

until the excavation's done
and all resurface in the sun.