yellow song-bird, coal mines

i dig. i dig. i dig deep.
all day long, we all go. we dig.
that is what we are here for...to unravel the dark.
or unravel in the dark?

all of us, dressed in generic suits, fused into our skins. masks, some would call them.
clinking away. everyday, breaking away the boulders of our chest.
this dance has a certain rhymth to it...you know?
it might just be me...

wake up. pretend to be happy.
the sky is dark again. the day has begun again.
breathe breathe breathe. listen.
a beautiful songbird whistles.
time for work again.

even though i will never understand work, i love it.
regardless that we are called to work hard, to work valiantly...
in some deep twisted part, we love it.
working the stone slabs, humans call the heart, everyday.
scrubscrub.scrape.pick-ax.scrape.scrubscrub.
whistling echoes the beat. the breathe intake.

the soot covers my hands, my ribs, my intestines, everything.
everything is marred, nothing can escape the messy.
everything i touch, that touches me, becomes complicated and relevant.
i need to be careful now...this is delicate work, hacking away the thousand year-old coal.
a thousand more and it could have been diamonds, nobody can ever wait...

underneath the earth, a couple of miles, we work.
day in.day out. rain. shine. snow. clouds. fog.
it does not matter, the whistling never stops.
will it ever? will i ever get to rest?
breathe.whistle.breathe.whistle.breathebreathebreathe...breathe.

calm transcends. glances exchanged, nervous laughs.
the songbirds cease to drive. we can stop.
this is what begins. this is where we make or break.
there is a choice. to stop and run. to brave death.
my eyes glaze over as axes and hard hats around me drop, arms flail.
i am shoved toward the light of the surface...the surface.
fuck.

my mind makes the only rational decision.
i run. push. scream. fight my way back down.
i will never go back up. i have seen the ugly. neat. flightless people.
all my hard work! for nothing...i do not think so!
is there no perseverance in these sheep? is there no courage?

my heart knows nothing else.
even in the face of death herself, i cannot give up my work.
my grinding, revolting, beautiful work for the deeper inner-workings.
even if i die getting there, i cannot waste one minute resting!

i must tear down these walls around my chest,
even if the whistling has stopped. even if i find no logic, no basis.
i must persevere through the silence and cling: with
for
to faith
this is what...i know.
this is...what i need to know.
i dig. i dig. i dig deep.