Vajra

Lyrics

I am older than the hands that polished me.
Older than the clouds they say I fell from.

You lift me from the red velvet cushion,
nine ounces of cast bronze in the morning light.
Five curved ribs on either side, closing into a cage.
I remember when I was the blinding white
that split the drought. When I cracked the serpent’s spine.
Now I am a paperweight for prayers.
Your fingers lock around my center,
and your mind drops entirely into your palm,
forgetting you have a wrist at all.

They call me the diamond, the sudden spark,
the absolute weight that clears the dark.
But nobody pities the indestructible thing.
I watch the silk rot beneath my frame.
I watch the priests turn to ash and breath.
What if I am the only thing denied a death?
What if I am doomed to outlive the sky?

I was forged to be the end of the debate,
a weapon of pure, unyielding law.
But perfection is a terrible kind of weight.
I cannot blunt. I have no flaw.
The gods who threw me are just names you hum,
while I sit here, symmetrical and cold,
waiting for a ruin that is never going to unfold.

They call me the diamond, the sudden spark,
the absolute weight that clears the dark.
But nobody pities the indestructible thing.
I watch the silk rot beneath my frame.
I watch the empires turn to ash and breath.
What if I am the only thing denied a death?
What if I am doomed to outlive the sky?

Give me a hairline fracture.
Give me a single chip in the metal.
Let me tarnish, just a little, in the damp.
If I cannot decay, am I even real?
I want to shatter. I want to feel the wheel.

You set me back down on the cloth.
The bell rings. The incense burns down.
You will fade. Your gods will fade.
And I will be right here.
Flawless.
And terrified.