Magma Opal

Sometimes the hardest is to set the scene
Stuck circling the choice of the right shade of green
But picture a priestess fleeing from Truth
A pursuit so relentless and dangerously uncouth
She feared for her virtue, under that wild glare
Paralyzed with fear there wasn’t any truly there
She drew roots and made an alliance with the Earth
To remain unchanged in the face of death and rebirth

Now champions are crowned with her leaves
A fleeting symbol of what the doer achieves
Shades of Daphne on every BS degree
Certificates of higher earning
But tell me now, children, is anyone learning?
We’re going through the motions and inhaling the fumes
Of dark dank abandoned dusty rooms
Stumbling like a pirate dragging a peg
But don’t ya know, a tripod must have three legs

Inside the mirror of meaning
Every answer has a twin
But is your mind open wide enough
To let the Universe in?
Maybe the vision’s real
Or just a trick of the snake
Maybe you’re only dreaming
That you’re actually awake
Ain’t no laurels to rest on
Just a tale to shake
Maybe it’s transparent
Or utterly opaque
All there is is a point of you
A drop in an infinite lake

A tree, see, doesn’t have anywhere else to be
By a brook, in a book, it’s all the same to me
Won’t you meet my sweet friend Subtlety?
Singing lines spun off yesterday’s rhymes
The beating heart of all those endured
For long enough to have some last word
No loyalty to the passing or forthcoming age
No windmills to tilt at or wars to wage
Nostalgia and Novelty aren’t on the same the page

It’s a spot of terrain we guard in our brains
In a narrow passage riddled with chains
Missing the metaphor for the story
Hunkered down in private Purgatories
The Devil’s in the dissonance
Three-headed hounds barking ignorance
None of it makes any difference
Empty the ocean, pail by pail
Vanity and verity aren’t weighed on the same scale

Inside the mirror of meaning
Every answer has a twin
But is your mind open wide enough
To let the Universe in?
Maybe the vision’s real
Or just a trick of the snake
Maybe you’re only dreaming
That you’re actually awake
Ain’t no laurels to rest on
Just a tale to shake
Maybe it’s transparent
Or utterly opaque
All there is is a point of you
A drop in an infinite lake

She hovers over sacred fissures
Flames which jet up and away toward the future
Igniting souls grown jaded and cold
On outmoded notions some profits once sold
And the Magma burns and preserves
The past as much as it deserves
For the surface is history, plowed and frozen
We live in the world where our choices were chosen
Can’t plan a jailbreak with the mind in a cage
If dharma and drama don’t dance on the same stage

January 10, 2025. Category: airlift, Word Jazz.

About Air Lift Underground

View all posts by Air Lift Underground