The light in the cold winter sky, outside the window.
Shivering in bed, knowing it’s come, I will have to go.
Floating in light, naked and cut open, but without pain.
I am touched through my spirit, and they smell of rain.
Things taken, things put in, they knew I had been with him.
A baby, part me, part them, with eyes so bright, arms so slim.
Above me I see Eve and Adam in Eden; that was a soft prelude.
I hear laughter, I hear mocking, as I am defenseless, pink, nude.
The child is already awake inside me, and his eye will light skies.
He will march us into the sea, as our world is destined for all lies.
He will march us into the sea, as the all light fails, our souls consumed.
Made to burn in infernal guts, made to bleed and cry, all hope subsumed.
They smell of rain, and I remember being a child; I thought them friends.
Wide open field on the edge of the forest, not knowing how this all ends.
The child grows, and I know I will be tender and caring to him, though I’ll burn.
Made in fire, in the cold of another world, to that abyss I will hold him as I return.