Waitomo

Waitomo after midnight.
Black water underneath.
The daylight disappeared
somewhere above the trees.

We drifted without speaking.
No window, moon or flame.
Then something in the darkness
began to glow again.

No moon.
No open air.
Then one by one,
the stars were there.

I went underground
and found the sky.
A thousand little lights
were burning high.

No road above me.
No sun in sight.
I went underground
and found another night.

Blue fire on the ceiling.
Still water down below.
A universe was hanging
where no stars should ever glow.

For once I stopped believing
the light must come from above.
Some things are only waiting
where the world is dark enough.

No moon.
No open air.
Still all those stars
were shining there.

I went underground
and found the sky.
A thousand little lights
were burning high.

No road above me.
No sun in sight.
I went underground
and found another night.

Maybe darkness isn't empty.
Maybe we just never stay
long enough to see
what wakes when daylight fades.

I went underground
and found the sky.
Ten thousand little lights
were burning high.

And somewhere under Waitomo,
far from morning light,
I learned the deepest darkness
can still be full of light.