The circle is vicious, iniquity goes down like water, spoken behind the hand. It is the storm that brought me in, falling from her braided hair, she made a place for me. As great trees have fallen, this is my language. Tossed about under a mean sky, lord how far am I. Break the darkness of the sky, kiss the sun lest he be angry. Where hearts are fire sparks are thrown. The sun slips from your shoulder, as you enter in the wood, dressed in cold, arranging his word. This fear is only the beginning, it is a dirty blue. Im held together by string, I hear not the voices of others. It is frail now that it makes it sound, of the past I have been living. I wait for her to speak for me, a burning coal of kindness. I sleep in this chair like a stone, to spin with the world. I walk the creaking floors of this home, I must take care for you. I have not the breath, lovely in the rivers mirror. It will take some time, I dare not rest.
– Josh Fleming
Words taken and remixed from: Wovenhand, album Mosaic, original lyrics by: David Eugene Edwards
Image by: Camille Seaman