Death is a garden Where all things grow Life is a flower Crushed under the snow From starlight to blank night From birth-rite to final night
Who is this god that’s brought before us Before our eyes were open Who is this reverberation Life falling from his gaze Our breath Two pillars flank him Upwards undulating Immortality and death Brothers of blood birth They weave smoke Through the garlands of his hair
Motioning to the doors Half open but revealing naught From fire or licking tongues of nothing Where comes this and where goes this? Where comes this and where goes this?
And all around I hear the heartbeats and motors And all around I feel my fear
Tell me what alter does suffice The laying up of books and sun-dried flowers I bend my head but I cannot hear the name That opened emptiness
I strain my ears But I cannot make out the words that walk as guides in this world In this world
And all of the verses And all the endless reciting All fall on one side of the curtain
And all of your praying And all the ends in times decry All fall to a dream Without waking
Somewhere behind sleep I can sense a close shadow It is Him and it is you It is truth and phantom
Soft feet in a garden And a doorway creeping open
Soft feet in a garden And there is a doorway creeping open