My god is in the breath of crows It grows and shrinks with nature's wish A fire with no link to the wish of man But it must be absolute, this god For when the mind is still It moves. My god is in the breath of crows May I not delude my I to think He grows to grant my wish Or wash my sin But let me watch in wonder As he makes his work Wonder in this Wonder in this.
The sound of holy night abound Kestrel calls and bells Drink the air And the race for meaning quells Let it in Let it in Or the calls will sound like hollow tin Or gramophone circles And background dust I must Replaced by must By scent and sense Wonder this.