"The Acolyte, The Artist And Nature" lyrics

The scythe that was my power
The hunger and the feast
That vanished with the hour
I no longer need

I am the silence and the arrow
I am the muse, the father's seed
I am the mutant sparrow
The child that does not speak

The blood of his mind was smeared upon the walls
All of his being denied the words and the finger of the Lord
He was as the son of Jonah
Fleeing his sacred calling
Crying out to his God

Let me be
Let me merely live
Let me observe unscathed
Let me see with pure eyes that do not turn inward
Let me be a vagabond who prays, takes a bit of bread
Observing mankind
Observing nakedness

The walls of the church had been lovingly prepared
Covered with layers of lime and lead
White as the flakes that fell
Awaiting the Holy Trinity
The acolyte, the young bellcaster
Was filled with joy
Anticipating the work of the great master
He had not seen him
But he had felt him

And then he heard the terrible voice in the wind
And he trembled
He heard the artist approaching
And the sounds of his steps breaking across the frozen terrain

The voice of creation was brushing against the artist's heart
And he cried out
And the acolyte turned
Hearing the master's cry
Froze

He heard the arrogant sighs
He heard the artist twisting and turning in his own destiny
And the veins of his mind were twisted as well

The acolyte stood by the door
As the artist entered the sacred space

He was moved by the whiteness of the walls
That had been prepared so lovingly
Yet he wished nothing more
Than to have them free of his touch
Not to be adorned by his hand
Nor to have the blood of his mind smeared upon them

He desired that they could be left as they were
Like the unblemished hills
And the wide expanses covered in virgin snow

The artist cried out to be free
And the acolyte, who knew not of himself
Ran toward the arms of nature
Calling to him as a mother calls

The child that does not spea
You
You, boy
Come
What do you fear?

Take off your heavy shoes
Such thick clay
Clay I've not seen
Let me see
Let me see your hands
They are quite dirty
But calloused
And strong

I will bring you bread
I will give you a place to sleep
And I will pray for your father

Who am I?

I am nature
Once
I heard everything
I roamed the forest
I ate of the white snake
And heard the voice of every living thing
My eyes were two glowing orbs
That I plucked and rolled upon the forest floor
And blinded
I dug deeply for the clay that formed the dove

Come
Come see
It rests in my hand
And it breathes not
I breathe in the mouth of birds
But you
Young acolyte
Bell caster

Give the people hope
In the shape of a bell

Kneel down

Kneel down and know thyself and dig

Dig into the earth
Claw into the deep
Which is not deep at all

Draw from the molten river
It is yours
The water will form the chalice of life
It is yours
Draw from the core of your being
Draw from the golden room
Draw from the crescent moons
Draw from the robes that are your robes
Draw from your naked feet
Draw from the wailing and the wind

And you
Artist
Lingering in the shadows

Silent monk

My field, my thorn

Bow your head
Draw from your vibrant soul
Draw from the golden womb
Draw all that can be drawn
All that can be heard
All that can be known
Deny no more
Blind no more
Draw from the sacred bell
Drink from the chalice of life

Artist
You are born
Artist
Blind no more

Bell caster
You are born
Bell caster
Cry no more

You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells
You paint icons
Three times the Lord was denied
Deny no more

Weep no more
I am the open door
I am the curve of sound
You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells
You paint icons

You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells

You paint icons
You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells
You paint icons
You cast bells

You paint icons

You cast bells
You paint icons