The trees of my eden dance.
In a pool of shallow white light they glow.
I can sense the birds are smiling.
Through the clear, crisp cut air they go.
I dream I am the ground.
I hear its wisdom through my pace.
I remember when I was the sky.
I feel I'm fading without trace.
The fire in my perdition waits.
It grabs me across the hidden line.
I feel it enrapture my forsaken art.
And I flounder in a field of burning brine.
I'm torn between two worlds.
One of hatred, one a glorious prison.
And when the barriers of my perdition fall,
My Eden will have risen.