Singing To The Silence

 

There will be a time for the silence,

To be heard again after the call,

To be heard with the final trumpet,

To be sanctified after the fall.

 

When the gates of the chantry are opened,

As the souls of the faithful gain grace,

What then will be left but the silence,

Or what should be left in its place.

 

When the tolling of bells ends the quiet,

And the keening of saints rends the air,

Pale horses will carry their riders,

To open the seals of despair.

 

And what will be left for the morning,

When our rages are over and done,

Will the world still awaken to birdsong,

Will the flowers still turn to the sun.

 

Will the timeless waves beat on the seashore,

Will the lightning still shatter the trees,

Will the soft sands still swirl in the desert,

Will the flowers still dance in the breeze.

 

Will the lion still stalk in the savannah,

Will the eagle still circle the skies,

Will the stars still caress from the heavens,

Will the new truth prove histories lies.

 

For we fate both the wanton and wicked,

While despising the wise and the meek,

As the prophet plays harlequin angel,

Singing hymns for the old and the weak.

 

When I dance with my life in abandon,

As the runes tell of things that are past,

The church door lies broke on its hinges,

And the dice of corruption are cast.

 

For the clock in the tower is ticking,

Like a heartbeat it’s sounding the knell,

And as god calls the world to salvation,

The beast calls the faithless to hell.

 

Stand guard in the hall of the ancients,

And take swords to the rope and the knot,

Offer only the wisdom of children,

To the world that seraphs forgot,

 

For the silence must yield to the singing,

As the beast yields to light from above,

When we sing with the music unwritten,

We will sing to the silence of love.