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Here's how I'll come to you.
I came here alone.
Here's how I'll walk in you
Like millions before.
The judgement of the faces in hagiomasonry
Can burn or clean me.
But the tombs all faceless.
The brows have worn away
Under the gentle hands that placed themselves
Like kisses or falling leaves.
The palm that strokes the lamb.
The hands of palmers
Scratching tags in the staircase slabs.
Would you arm that saint?
Would you care what it stood for?
Would you deliver a child in the nave if history changed?
Let it seep in my pained heart
Like light through the stained glass.
I walk like I'm carrying a baby
Who will wake if I'm too loud.
And here's how I walk in you.
The martyr path.
I'm set in stone.
Set in your stone.
You calm me down,
It makes me wonder what does it mean to me to light the candle now?
I'm set in stone.
Set in your stone.
I pay the pound
It makes me wonder what does it mean to me to light the candle now?
And though this house is long empty
You calm me down,
It makes me wonder what does it mean to me to light the candle now?
He died on the floor at the end of December
And nearly nine hundred years later
I'm here trying to feel something.
Why should I feel anything?
He died bleeding and cold
On the floor at the end of December
And nearly nine hundred years later I'm here and I feel something.
I briefly feel something and it's gone.