The Old Man wants me to give it up.
He thinks I should yield it up to a dividing hand.
It is very valuable intact but our claim is breaking up, and what shall we do?
I begin the day in the dark and all day long I feel my way
I compete with the demons in the mine
They pick and quarrel and pry
Ruthlessly wedging themselves between him and me
With no mercy clawing away at my soft spots, lusting for the quarry
But I guard my hope.
Who will hold up the lamp so I can trace the way?
After they’ve hissed all their defamations
And have mattocked me with their ugliest threats
I turn myself to the heart of the loadstone.
There is always so much I want to say to the dark old man
Most of it cannot be carved out safely
I have debated his claim, wondered if I was crazy
Wished our veins had never crossed
I have doubted myself.
And now I find, in the midst of all our quandaries
Of all that threatens to undermine us
We have stumbled upon a rough diamond in the coal.
I am the mother lode, and the demons lust after my quarry
Day and night in the thick dark they haunt my tunnels
But I am wary of their plots--the arguments and undressed desires
Although they dig and pry, there is a quiet voice on the line
Bidding me hold on
It is easy to acquiesce before you admit the value of the diamond
Before the curette is close
You can tell I have not consented to their crude pick, Old Man
Secretly I dream of going forward
A little more time....
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