The Softening (Agape)

Lyrics

[Intro]
In this hall of Agathon's house, Athens, 416 BCE,
The clay kylix rests in my palm, still warm from your touch.

[Verse 1]
You, old cup, painted with vines from the potter's wheel in Kerameikos,
Hold the dregs of diluted wine, mixed three parts water to one,
As Plato speaks across the table, his voice low like the olive oil flame.
That night, under the terracotta lamp's glow, 18 degrees in the courtyard breeze,
We passed you hand to hand, flicking remnants in kottabos play.

[Chorus]
Agape, the softening,
Oxytocin flooding the ventromedial prefrontal cortex,
Like myrrh smoke curling up, selfless, seeking no return.
You, kylix, witness to bonds without chains,
In the anterior cingulate's quiet hum.

[Verse 2]
Remember the flatbread crumbs on the low wooden table,
Olives from Attica's groves, bitter and green,
As Socrates leaned back on his couch, quoting the wonder of the wise.
The scent of burning oil, acrid and warm, fills the room,
While neurons fire in empathy's dance, altruism's gentle wave.

[Bridge]
Plato, born 428 BCE, in the amazement of gods,
Your words linger like the cup's damp rim against my lips.
No expectation, just the release, the bond in the brain's hidden folds.

[Verse 3]
Late evening stretches, Chronos unmarked,
Shadows from the lamp play on plastered walls.
You, kylix, symbol of shared signal, ubuntu in clay form,
Triggering the hormone's rise, caregiving without reward.

[Outro]
The softening complete, agape in every sigh,
Rest now, cup, in the dawn's first light.