Advent

It was all true

A parlor strode and the night sets forever

I stray in the quiet cold

And you gird me when

I dare to listen

Elastic meadow, endless arms of sorrow

Lips try to form because

Trying to adapt to the wilderness

Where even foes close their eyes and leave

We are inside the glade

Every now and then

I wipe the dust aside

To remember

How I drape my face with my bare hands

The same that brought me here

But you were beyond all help

The folded message that wept my name

Shadows, shadows skulk at my coming

We survey the slope

We survey the slope

In search for the words, write the missing page

The tainted, the tainted, dogma, dogma

Time grows short

As the piper plays his tune

We are almost there

You are beyond all help

Dancing into the void

We are almost there