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In solitude, I've discovered the purpose of destruction
Where one is moved by the glory of the lonely, penetrating wound
Afire in its throes,
I'm roused by detachment's seduction
And by the rapture of loss, I am attuned

With each heart of hearth now buried and sealed,
The cost of my violence is cheap
Survival consumes creation in the quiet of God's sleep
Love bends its knee before power's crowned head
The fancies of her dream burn away from their shackling bed

New arms gleam in the light of isolation
Blades spark against the whetstone of grief
My steel sharpens with every fresh departure
As I train in the art of letting go

My tongue is pointed by the great hope-hunter's spear
My mouth is smeared with the shape of every forbidden question

He taught my lips to trace them
I water the seeds I was gifted
And from neglect's fertile grounds, have I fed
The harvest cup flows with the breath of the adversary
In drinking deeply, to His will, I am wed

New arms gleam in the light of isolation
Blades spark against the whetstone of grief
My steel sharpens with every fresh departure
As I train in the art of letting go

For when the voice of love is silent or unjust,
One must ready the soul for war

One must ready the soul for war

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