The Flaming Sword

We came as water poured into stone
Expecting rivers, finding bone
The spirit knew the world as breath
But woke inside the house of death
And the walls wouldn’t bend
And the clock wouldn’t turn
So we shuttered the windows
And we forgot how to burn

There’s a shade that falls so slow you never see it draw
Just a dimming in the temple, just a thickening of the wall
Years go by like strangers and you learn to call it peace
Till you can’t recall the presence, only feel its absence in the crease
Of every hollow morning
Of every deal you made
With the version of yourself
That learned to be afraid

But something’s calling from the well
A voice that knows your secret name
It says the one who seeks the light
Will find that he is sought the same
Come down, come down into the dark
Where the breaking is the mending
And the end is where you start

So you walk into the underworld with nothing but your skin
Every fragment you called “I” becomes an offering thrown in
The vessel has to shatter—not to ruin, but to show
The rift where something holy bled out long ago
And this is where they leave
This is where they run
When the death of who you were
Feels like the only one

But I tell you what is yours will return
What is true cannot be lost
The seeds that fall into the grave
Are not the final cost

And when reconstitution comes, it comes without a sound
Just the quiet recognition of the self that has been found
The gates of heaven open not above you but within
And sovereignty is given to the one who sheds their skin
Now reality will reach for you
With mana in its hands
Not because you bent the world
But because the world understands

This is Eden at the end of exile
This is bread that’s never earned
This is the flaming sword turned inward
To remove what must be burned
The whole-y spirit rises
Through the cracks of what we were
And the light that finds the darkness
Is the word
Is the word
Is the word​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

70’s, psychedelic rock, trippy distortion, hypnotic, male voice