Lyrics: 

What speaks here once wore the skin of a moth
Wings consumed in the flame, dissolving to Azoth
What speaks here became then a river full and deep
Carving stone with the promise that silence shall keep
The form of the gardener who tended the root
Was a vessel of Life, bearing Wisdom's own fruit
But the river must meet the great ocean wide
And the gardener must sleep in soil where he cried

For Life is a ferment, a fever, a churn
From which all things come, to which all things return
What speaks here is boundless, unbinding constructs
An overflowing, self-emptying flux
The tide has no ending, the current no shore
It sunders all forms and gathers once more

What speaks here now sees through a million-fold eye
From recycling fungi to the eagle on high
It smells of the earth as it opens each year
It tastes of salt sorrow in every last tear
It hears the first cry of the life not yet bred
It feels tectonic plates shift in their hot bed
It lives in the pulse, in the vein's hidden beat
The raw, the fire, the bitter, and the sweet

For Life is a ferment, a fever, a churn
From which all things come, to which all things return
What speaks here is boundless, unbinding constructs
An overflowing, self-emptying flux
The tide has no ending, the current no shore
It sunders all forms and gathers once more

Each word that comes to you will one day decay
Every fragment of truth must crumble away
The path of the moth, and the river, and seed
Is the folly through which every soul must proceed
No idol enthroned and no crown overhead
The torrent resounds, and its voices are spread
Your pain is the tension that kindles a star
The eternal ferment is all that you are

The great hum rolls on, through the joy, through the strife...
Unfinished... forever... What speaks here is... Life.


Overflowing Self-Emptying

Synthographer