Mother Mary
Finding Grace in the Mundane: The Magical Essence of Mother Mary
Lyrics
I keep trying to see the face
I persist in attempting to envision the visage
Of mother mary full of grace
Of Mother Mary, characterized by divine favor
In an apple core
Within the remains of an apple
In a sticky bun
In a sweet pastry
In a stretch of clouds
In a streak of clouds
In the setting sun
During the descent of the sun
But all that's there is just the flesh and peel
Yet, all that is discernible is the outer layer and skin
Just the carmeled crust and the pink and teal of harvest dust
Merely the caramelized surface and the pink and teal hues of gathered dust
I keep trying to tell you how
I persist in trying to convey
I have always loved you like I love you now
That I have loved you consistently as I do at present
But my tongue gets thick and my brain brain goes slack
However, my speech falters, and my mind becomes inactive
And all these words come out bric-a-brac
Resulting in a jumble of incoherent words
And all that's there is just the metaphor
Yet, all that is present is just the symbolic representation
It's not the whole of you
It does not encapsulate your entirety
It's not the crux and core
It is not the essence and central point
It's not the through and through
It is not the complete and fundamental nature
I keep trying to understand
I persist in seeking comprehension
How a dram of atoms makes the man
Regarding how a small unit of atoms defines a person
And the woman too
And also a woman
Is that the whole of us?
Is that the entirety of us?
Just a clump of dirt?
Merely a mass of soil?
Just a cloud of dust?
Simply a dispersion of particles?
And that's there is just some chemistry
And what exists is just scientific interactions
The arithmetic of you and me
The mathematical relationship between you and me
And the human heart is just a fine machine
And the human heart is a sophisticated machine
Not a work of art filled with kerosene
Not a crafted masterpiece filled with flammable liquid
Not a mystery of colossal scope
Not an enigma of immense proportions
Not a duffel bag of fear and hope
Not a bag of mixed emotions, fear, and optimism
Not a megaphone of love and hate
Not a loudspeaker for love and animosity
Not a talisman to keep us safe
Not a charm to protect us
Not a rattletrap always breaking down
Not a shabby and unreliable contraption always malfunctioning
Not a spiderweb
Not a delicate structure
Not a shantytown
Not an impoverished settlement
Not a creaking bridge
Not a noisy and unstable bridge
Not a tank brigade
Not a military unit in armored vehicles
Not an oracle
Not a prophetic revelation
Not a masquerade
Not a costume party
Just a thing that bangs and beats and pounds
Simply a thing that produces rhythmic sounds
And throbs and churns and wails and sounds
And pulsates and stirs and cries and resonates
And maybe all we are is dust
And perhaps, all we consist of is dust
Maybe that's the whole of us
Perhaps that is our entirety
But maybe we are magic too
But perhaps we are also something magical
Impossible and completely true
Unbelievable yet entirely genuine
Through and through
Completely and fundamentally
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