IS EVERYBODY HERE???
IS EVERYBODY HERE ? EVERYBODY???
E…V…E…R…Y…B…O…D…Y… I…N…
The ceremony is about to begin.
Let me tell you of the loss of God, hope and dreams.
He was the symbol of all we were, all we feared, all we hoped the night might carry trembling into the arms of dawn.
When He withdrew, the firmament grew hollow. The wind forgot its name. The earth kept silence.
We wandered—wandering, wandering—
in the hopeless black of night,
without beacon or star,
beneath a sky that remembered no light.
The heavens were a sealed scroll.
No lamp burned in their depths.
No voice answered from the void.
And there—beyond the last thin breath of the wind—
the standing stones rose in their perfect circle,
grim wardens hewn by vanished hands.
They leaned inward like ancient judges,
their silence heavy as verdict,
their patience older than the first spoken word.
At the circle’s heart waited the altar—
cold as the world before dawn,
stern as the law beneath the earth.
Here vows were not spoken but carved.
Here love was not measured by tenderness,
but by the courage to release what once was.
To set down one stone with its crushing burden—
and lift another, smoother, warmer,
shaped for the hand that dares to reach again—
this was the rite.
So I laid my lost lover’s heart upon that sacred alter,
not as a wound, but as an offering;
not as despair, but as remembrance.
A testament to all we carried,
all we feared,
all we begged the night to bear into the coming light.
The stones trembled with the weight of it.
And the sky—empty to the unlearned—
bent low as though listening.
The circle breathed.
The earth shuddered.
The silence grew vast and terrible.
Then the trembling ceased.
And behold—
a narrow path opened between the stones,
not lit by star nor kindled flame,
but by a faint and steadfast glow:
a love renewed, remade,
a love tempered in shadow,
a love greater than the one we brought into the dark.
Thus we stepped forward,
leaving the old stone behind.
We did not look back.
And the road, though narrow,
did not vanish, but insted grew ever wider.
For what is lost in the night
may yet be reborn again by the promise of the breaking of morning, and the rising sun.
A new covenant made.
E…V…E…R…Y…B…O…D…Y… I…N…
The ceremony is about to begin.
Let me tell you of the loss of God, hope and dreams.
He was the symbol of all we were, all we feared, all we hoped the night might carry trembling into the arms of dawn.
When He withdrew, the firmament grew hollow. The wind forgot its name. The earth kept silence.
We wandered—wandering, wandering—
in the hopeless black of night,
without beacon or star,
beneath a sky that remembered no light.
The heavens were a sealed scroll.
No lamp burned in their depths.
No voice answered from the void.
And there—beyond the last thin breath of the wind—
the standing stones rose in their perfect circle,
grim wardens hewn by vanished hands.
They leaned inward like ancient judges,
their silence heavy as verdict,
their patience older than the first spoken word.
At the circle’s heart waited the altar—
cold as the world before dawn,
stern as the law beneath the earth.
Here vows were not spoken but carved.
Here love was not measured by tenderness,
but by the courage to release what once was.
To set down one stone with its crushing burden—
and lift another, smoother, warmer,
shaped for the hand that dares to reach again—
this was the rite.
So I laid my lost lover’s heart upon that sacred alter,
not as a wound, but as an offering;
not as despair, but as remembrance.
A testament to all we carried,
all we feared,
all we begged the night to bear into the coming light.
The stones trembled with the weight of it.
And the sky—empty to the unlearned—
bent low as though listening.
The circle breathed.
The earth shuddered.
The silence grew vast and terrible.
Then the trembling ceased.
And behold—
a narrow path opened between the stones,
not lit by star nor kindled flame,
but by a faint and steadfast glow:
a love renewed, remade,
a love tempered in shadow,
a love greater than the one we brought into the dark.
Thus we stepped forward,
leaving the old stone behind.
We did not look back.
And the road, though narrow,
did not vanish, but insted grew ever wider.
For what is lost in the night
may yet be reborn again by the promise of the breaking of morning, and the rising sun.
A new covenant made.
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