Once I saw the moon that night I emptied out my reading light
Gave up all my shadows for the dawn
Turns out I could read just fine
Even in the morning I saw something in the dust between the lines
The trees in hand, the bird in flight
The waiting land, the flickering light
The angels never write about this anymore
Once I felt the emptiness, the long cry in the labyrinth
The cunning, the articulate and the silence
One the sorrow never wed, two they say were never wed
A third they painted red beneath the spirit
The angel hand, the fire in the black
The mile around the cinder track
It''s hard to think of disbelieveing any more
And even though it''s never said
The woman smiled upon my bed
And told me I''d made good for all this after all