The Mountain She Painted Until She Owned It

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Your eye opens like a canyon floor at dawn,
fissures blooming into the light you've held
between your ribs for years—
the wet geometry of wanting,
each petal a threshold your cortex rewired
to see what others walked past.
You've mapped the invisible,
made the intimate monumental.

[Chorus]
Your seeing is a synaptic storm,
long-term potentiation burning bright,
each flower remembered not as flower
but as the architecture of longing itself—
you've trained your neurons to reach
toward color the way roots find water.

[Verse 2]
In those close folds, that deep crimson,
your mirror neurons fire—
you're not observing, you're *becoming*,
the axonal branching of your perception
extends into canvas like roots through soil.
Your proprioception knew before your hand did:
the scale of intimacy,
how to turn desire into dimension,
how magnification births the sacred.

[Chorus]
Your seeing is a synaptic storm,
long-term potentiation burning bright,
each flower remembered not as flower
but as the architecture of longing itself—
you've trained your neurons to reach
toward color the way roots find water.

[Bridge]
Your theta waves sync with the landscape,
hippocampal consolidation fusing
memory and myth into one sensual fact—
this is how you loved: by looking closer,
by refusing the distance between seer and seen.

[Chorus]
Your seeing is a synaptic storm,
long-term potentiation burning bright,
each flower remembered not as flower
but as the architecture of longing itself—
you've trained your neurons to reach
toward color the way roots find water.

[Outro]
The aperture holds you still—
magnified, intimate, infinite,
a throat blooming open
singing what only the close eye hears.