All grey, a gaol.
Beavering away, they make what may appear good progress but all know they are getting nowhere. Going nowhere.
They had a God once. A good, kindly King. He would admonish no-one, no child; he let them get on with things. But they forgot His name and forget His presence and fell down to here. The took knocks and bangs on their descent, black eyes and bruised heads.
On the ground they found the ruins of another city. So they set up here and got to work, digging in the dirt.
And now, they might look up the odd day at the sky above but they have long stopped remembering why. And even if they could recall, there is nothing to see above them.
I weep for them.
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