The Coal Miner In My Id

With my Super-ego on a mental day off

and my Ego listless in its varying cloaks

I journey deep to the mines of my Id

where the soot and sweat coated laborer lives.

I silently witness the coal miner crying

as he swings his pick at the never ending black

diamond drops fall from rivulet cleansed cheeks

and scatter on the density of his laborious footing.

His work maintains the home fire's burning

and the engines of ability the luxury of steam

he swings his pick at the never ending black

as I gather up fragments from his tortured heart.

Passion's wellings of issues held dear

squeezed from the duct of his pain laden eye

crucibled feelings in crystalline clarities

diamonds indeed from the coal miner's crying

Laments and fears and paranoias of doom

ponder the refractions of his emotional yields

as he labors on in the depths of the Id

swinging his pick at the never ending black,

swinging his pick at the never ending black.

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15 March 2007 - Bill's Spirit

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