The donkey met the soul of man

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In tunnels deep, where daylight dies,
Beneath the earth and ashen skies,
The donkey walked with steady tread,
While dust and sorrow crowned his head.

With leather straps and burdened back,
He trudged along the sooty track,
Beside the miner, flesh and bone—
Two lives condemned, yet not alone.

No sunrise touched the caverns wide,
No breeze to brush the donkey's hide.
Just echoes thick with cough and clink,
Where man and beast forgot to think.

They shared the dark, they shared the load,
Their silence paved the endless road.
One held a pick, one bore the weight,
Both prisoners sealed by profit's gate.

A nuzzle here, a softened sound,
A moment's care where none was found.
But kindness lived in shadows thin—
A fleeting grace, then back again.

The man observed, through dust and dread,
The patient strength, the quiet tread.
No grand design, no future sought,
Just honest labor, simply wrought.
From humble beast, a truth he drew:
To bear the load, and see it through.

No words were spoke, yet lessons clear
Dissolved the man's despair and fear.
The donkey asked for no reward,
For others' gain, his spirit poured.
A silent lesson, deep and true:
How much for others one can do.

For neither chose the path they tread,
Yet both would bleed, both toil for bread.
And though the whip may not forgive,
The donkey taught the man to live.

A bond was forged in blackened stone,
Where hearts grew hard but not alone.
And when the weary shift would cease,
A final look, a moment's peace.
The donkey's eyes, a wisdom deep,
A silent vow for man to keep:
"Though toil may claim your fleeting years,
Let not your spirit yield to tears.
For those you serve, with honest might,
Bring forth the dawn from endless night."
In darkest mines, where few dare scan—
The donkey met the soul of man.

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