Inside Earth

     Comparing Carlsbad Caverns to Hades, with its spacious, dank rooms where souls could while away or to an under water diving adventure with the coral-esque formations and blue-black crevices or to another world altogether, one where the ceiling could be the floor, where faces seem to pop out of stalagmites, a carnival fun room, would be as repetitive as a cat call off the sonorous walls of the cave, so I won't.
     The rooms of the cavern are more like the lonely rooms in a castle where an only daughter of some passed and forgotten king stays. The big room, cleverly its actual title, would have been the girl's quarters. A mansion room characteristically too large for just one person, with specific areas for daily solitary living. Many of the walls are hidden by luxurious curtains; draperies to give the bare and neutral color some essence of wealth, so that any onlooker could say to himself, "impressive."
     As I stroll around the deliberate paths I have the distinct impression that I am taking an evening walk in a French or English park, narrowing the possible locations of our castle. There are stone formations that remind me of trees, shadowed in dramatic lighting that act in my imagination as streetlights. It is a chilly night and I can feel it in my numbing fingertips.
     I re-enter the equally cold castle. For entertainment or, more likely, a distraction from solidarity, there are the remains of stages for puppets. A grand place where shows of doll escapades in fairyland and exotic Chinese and Arabian frame tales were once enacted. The auditoriums are pink, white, orange, giving brightness to corners of the cave and rising edges of mouths.
     The whimsical attractions of the derelict theaters die away as I enter the damsel's bedroom. A sense of warmth hangs in the room like a mist resting on the cavern's floor. The surely opulent bed cannot be found but there are hundreds of candles in its place. In different stages of size and therefore life, the candles creep everywhere with waxen tentacles, exploring their frozen environment. There are large piles, skinny strands, and millions of years of naturally flowing build up that give the area a dangerous yet enchanting aura.
     Seeing signs for 'elevator' and 'gift shop' is like getting a 44 ounce glass of wine thrown in my face. The tourist's necessities are like pollution in the exclusive magnificence of the caverns. I stare at the floor of the elevator, wishing to project myself through sight back into that magical and mysterious place my mind had roamed.