Rituals of the Doorway /Bride Price Ceremony

Your wife (the narrator's wife) digs in the hillside for ancient cities. Last year she slid down a mudhole and found herself standing in the tomb of a king who lived 6000 years ago. Consider yourself in this cave where she landed. It changes when the mission changes which changes when the cave itself changes which changes when you enter it which happens by way of redtones leftover from the hillside whose breach (your lady) finds herself surrounding the tomb of an ancient king who lives 6000 years from now in a darkness funded with expensive money. Civilized exclusivity. An inverse slum. Blue Monk. True clavetude. Now you know me well enough to betray me to our geomantic haven, walking-walking walk-in the shape of a number I want us to build from our secrets. Honey dripper stumbling kind of walk that won't let earth delete it. The first records were the footprints from an ongoing arrival and their first keepers were thieves who cannot draw a bible without walking backwards into the arms of a hill and sliding down into the liar's charm which is a lair fit to occupy and revere. Your new diggs, your first lady, your last muse half-stepping keep on keeping-on way you say lord sounds like lowered, get down where the word is your most through step through the meek ain't gonna inherit the war, 'cause I'll take it back to earth if I have to, and hand it right to them as if it's land everyone should want a passage of when really my job is to reveal greed, turn it to the right, and push it off history, and push history off the good book, and push the book off your wife so she can look for you in the right places without breaking time into before and after the fall, you dig