One of the Peoplei've seen them come in hordesi've the wisdom of the old mastersi've poured through tomes and volumeslistened to tales of sages and poetssearching for enlightenmentthen it camejust as cool as the breezea man in the twilight of his lifetold me all I neededhe leaned in close to mea burning candle dividing uslooking into my eyes he said these words to mesound your horn across this desert of pavementresurrect that berserking surge of magnificent existenceembrace the radical chargeto beat back the gloom cry thunder!invoke mighty gods of creation bring forth alchemists of languageslip past time and mythcarve your own image on the granite cliffsof humanities heroes hammer! pound!
Rolling from the HeavensOut here we wait the arrival of two riders bitten by the coldWrapped in forgiveness and pleading for solaceWe exist only for each day as it rolls into our lives from the heavensAnd then retreats into historyEach dayCarves a legend and each day unites pieces of time
Grace and MidnightI want to livein an english garden where it rainsand tumblesa haven for detached beautymy name would be SilasI would spend my dayschasing the images of Van Gogh in my headonto stretched canvaswith wind colorsand screaming sunsI would drink winegrow a flowing beard of gray and learn to play the piano by candlelight I would finish the sermon of MacKenzieand let it be heardI would do this perched on a pearly balconywith lights that could be seen from milesan eternal glowI would be the subject of a small boy's poem"The man who plays piano by candlelightin the daylight"a piano melodyghostly in resonanceangelic in purityyet hallow and bringing the burden of gravitySilas the magiciancomposed the ghost that haunted the chamberSilas the mysticwho would sell his soulfor youSilas the old fatherwho swept away his ch
The EmptyOnce, as a small, innocent boy, who had not seen the world through grown eyesI saw a blind man weepWeep a river of tears that filled the cracks in his faceThe tears flooded the sun-washed plains of his cheeksThey were the tears of a man who could not fill his soulFor his time was near and he knew that an empty soul is worse than a wicked soulWhen a blind man weeps the world tremblesSouls are shaken out of their hiding places atop the trees of a poets' worldIn a dense canopy in the wildernessA dozen souls come to the ground and bare sorrow for the blind man weepingYou can pray and weep with the blind manBut alas no praying eases an empty soulBattlefields echo with resounding fury of prayerYet the powers that be would not be shakenCannons sound and rockets blastBlood is shed to save a simple blind man who is weepingWeeping for his empty soulSouls come to save oneOne blind man who is weepingAnd they are pushed away like sand at a tide's willA blind man, weepingUtterly
Amongst the Stone Angelssolomons' childhood was spent in the shadow of a prisonnow he plants flowers in the cemeteryamongst the stone angelssolomon spends time watching birds land on headpieces and tombshe watches as they glance about when the wind picks updear solomon watches as the birds read the names of those committedcommitted to the sanctuary of the dust and the groundamongst the stone angelssolomons' young legs weave their way through ancient plotshe understands the deadit makes sense to himnot the marble and granite and elaborate stone monumentsbut the ideathe sacred rites and testamentsof those who have long departed the world solomon strays fromsolomon gives comfort to othersthey know someone is watching over their deadthe dead watch over solomonhere amongst the stone angelshe can resthe can breathesolomon stands within his wrought iron fence and smilesthe colors of the autumn leaves dance and float awayinto the cold harsh winterand the crows comepoor solomon curses the wint
Josiah the SeekerDeath comes easy for the sistersSleep does notThe sisters built a tower to their lordIvory and emeraldSpiraling upward toward himA thing called glory clouded their mindsPrecious time was spent searching for relics and glorious artifactsTo prove the almighty was indeed the almightyThen they watched it crumble with the weight of their GodI am the seekerWhen the magnificent tower came crashing to the earthMy search was overI had found what I was seekingEnlightenment perhapsAs if some divine actOrdered meA lonely seeker named JosiahTo serve as shepherd to a new world The sisters would not curse their lordAnd their lord forgave themAnd they built another towerStronger and more elegant than the firstAnd higher and still more awe inspiringA mere generation after the firstIt too came tumblingAnd IA lonely seeker named JosiahIn service as a shepherdSat on my fence post and conversed with my lordNo ivoryNo emeraldsJust a wool coatAnd an open channel to
Give Us A Pilgrim SoulOh Alchemist of the BonesCreate for the world a pilgrim soulCreate for us a searchlight soulCreate a pilgrim soulSculpt for us an underground madmanSculpt a sage with wisdom beyond his yearsMake him bendable and alive with the veins of a city in the nightAllow him to show us the way to mysteryShow us his compassion and empathyLet him gather by handfuls neon lights on a thousand BroadwaysLet the pilgrim conquer his demonsLet him understand his cynicism and learnYes always learnLet him love the curve in a woman's hipLet him love the grace with which she carries her chinLet him love her soul with hisAlchemist of the Bones; Do what must be doneLet him stand on mountains and under moonsLet him walk through desertsLet his journey always be his destinationSend a pilgrim soul to show us how to crySend him to rise after every fallSend him to stand when he can't kneelSend us a pilgrim soul to dance on each sunsetSend him to remember our deadLet him know what is greater t