Making ways down cryptic streets,
Hard market stools, bare faces worn,
The shutters closed in sync with eyes,
A stranger's country this I take,
Carve firmly out my lot and stake
My legs on walking through defeats,
I stagger 'fore a friendly hearth so warm,
A guide and keeper without lies,
To teach the ropes and dwelling make.

The pale walls slow down and halt to gray,
In dimming lights they shed their hue,
And let it pool in churning shadows on the floor,
Some hold tight to wilting red,
They fall head long to deeper black,
And weave into the fabric pale,
Hung up to drip their colours down,
Down, down, entrenched in folds of night,
That swell but don't recede in falling eve,
And all is coloured grey and coal,
But shadows don't dare cast such fear,
For they roll now to whims of light.

Your melody walks swiftly over the horizon,
Dancing playfully under the waves,
Treading firmly through the glaring eyes of hurricanes.

It crawls, walks and scuttles among the humble things,
And soars above the lofty heights,
Reverberating through valleys and rocking the earthen cradle.

It flows through the sky waters,
Permeating the three heavens,
And ploughing into the depths of sheol.

It is boundless,
And sans time it glided other the formless,
The beautiful symphony of your presence is now within us.