Match and Compare

For what cause do you wish to chase me out of this muted paradise of half-truths? The colors are more vibrant where you reside. I'm sure the food tastes better too. While you treated your faculty of smell to fragrant daffodils, I chewed on their roots to piece together a guesstimate. Yet the scent escapes me. Dirt is no lubricant of the sublime. So much of my mental acuity is bound up in imagination that I can barely count. The further one sails from reality, the more elaborate stories must become to fill multiplying blanks. Take the gap which separates our mirth. It is not a small one. They dance expertly in the place you call home. Under the sway of flutes and other instruments that pipe sweetly, you move slow, even sensually. With the charge of a drum beat are you made frantic with leaps and twirls. Each motion contains it's own euphoria. We crawl, and in better spirits, we dig. Now show me the choreography in that pitiless foraging. Come now, is this visit born of charity or cynical laughter. Even as we exchange pleasantries, I can feel myself being raised up. Not with dignity either, but by the scruff of my neck. Are you in the market for a subterranean guide? Perhaps your friends can snap pictures and inquire about the length of winter months. All is a jest I suppose. Your activities are more grand than anything that occurs in my little hole. Admonish me over the narrowness of den life. Tutor me in all things concerning the great expanse. Even...the whip. Do not think for a second that I am ignorant of your glorious side. All is kept in place by the cords of a cat-o'nine. In your domain, is not permitted that anyone should slip. Deep strokes across the leg and back inspire your lawfulness. No such master exist in our tunnels. Neither are we subject to electric fences that prevent our whim. In time you will search me out for a tour without haughtiness or pretense. And I will show you the liberty that is bound up in a sediment deeper than top soil.