Mineshaft

You were right to steer well clear:

The status quo pervades this place;

The only way is down.

To Rakhmetov’s lair!

Where ideas are King,

Under a stalactite sky.

The bashing of hammers
becomes the flicking of knives

A scratch on the rock, surfaces on the skin,

As a razors line.

You were right to down your tools:

The status quo pervades this place

Where gold bleeds with an iron face.

A mountain pointing the wrong way,

Buried in the earth, and dormant in darkness;

A child in a well;

Where amidst the clouds a great thinker once sat,

Waiting for the night to take his place.

You climbed outside, freed your mind,

With ideas of heaven;

And a bright blue sky.

You were Right!

For he was glad of your leaving;

No longer teased with life,

Finally left at peace, to bleed himself dry.