Advent

It was all true A parlour 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 skulk at my coming We survey the slopes In search for the words to write the missing page The tainted dogma Time grows short As the piper plays his time We are almost there You are beyond all help Dancing into the void We are almost there