Mole People

As with most momentary thoughts it is unknown when this one will float to the top of the misty mind again to be further rework.

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Mole people live in the sky.
In tall stone castles, hollow inside.
Scurry through tunnels up and down,
orderly passages, one above one,
Chambers fashioned clean on each side.

Mole people drop deep below ground.
To forage for food and all else they desire.
Milling around with a million others.
Eyes cast away so they never meet, not acknowledging the others exist.

Mole people out for a stroll.
They travel their tunnels,
one end to the other.
Then turn back in fear,
leas they may climb out into the sunny dangerous air.

Mole people don't realize.
At the end of their long tunnels,
on the other side of their earthen cement walls.
It all starts again, more tunnels for more mole people.
Who know not of each others existence.

Mole people live and mole people die.
Never having set foot under the great big blue sky.
Never see the sun, never felt the moon.
Dark sky, starry sky, foreign to them.

Mole people scurry back to their chambers.
To pile their new found treasures into their little hoards.
Then fall into fitful sleep awaiting the next new day.
Never imagining.