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Myselves |
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the grievers |
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grieve |
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among the streets burned to tireless death |
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a child of a view hours |
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with it's kneading mouth |
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charred on the black brest of the grave |
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the mother dug, and it's arms full of fire |
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Begin with singing - sing |
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darkness kindled back into beginning |
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when the caught tongue nodded blind |
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a star was broken |
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into the centuries of the child |
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myselves grieve now, and miracles cannot atone |
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Forgive - us forgive |
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us your death that myselves, the believers |
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may hold it in a great flood |
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till the blood shall spurt, |
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and the dust shall sing like a bird |
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as the grains blow, as your death grows through our heart |
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Crying |
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your dying cry |
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child beyond the cockcrow, by the fire-dwarfed |
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street we chant the flying sea |
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in the body bereft |
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love is last light spoken |
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oh seed of the sons |
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in the loin of the black husk left... |
