Optical Confusion

Spherical tomb. I wait, as color waves transfer into grayscale. Cobblestone womb. I am safe. The cellar beckons me with its wide open planks. Lower, lower, lower, the air gets heavier as I get lighter. Sun spots turn to shifting retinas, my optics becoming unreliable guides into the catacomb. Circles, hollow, no. Readjust. The glisten redirects …