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The Underground
The underground is what is there but unseen
It pushes us from behind and below
It is everything we have accumulated and discarded
A memory and what is lost, what is rotting
The underground is what is there but unseen
It pushes us from behind and below
Everything we do is influenced by its contents
But we are never aware of its influence
Only the tendrils of its plant, the fingertips of its being
We are the underground!
We are the underground!
We are the underground!
We decided to analyse the underground
Take apart its muddy constituents and determine its composition
We find dead things, dead people, lost love, lost hopes
An underclass, insects, proud bacteria, loving bacteria
We find an energy there, a glow
This is unexpected, something clean and nice
Something with no entropy, like a light source
It is a light in the rain!
It is a light
We pull apart the matted tendrils with forceps
We wash away the mud
Fine dark grains
Wash with white wine
Mountain spring water
Hands in the stream
The sun glints on the surface of the stream as it gurgles
The sun flickers upon our retina
The heavyless sun
Light, it tastes of god, the tince of new batteries, light, purity
Pure, clean, perfection
A pure source of zero entropy
A pure wave
It is sine
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