Snow falling through
a hole in the roof.
Blue lights in
a Thousand castles .
Through the door
that no longer opens
the Quiet Lion
still speaks .
My Fathers whispers
still ring in my ears .
Through a house full of dust
and windows made of Stone.
Barefoot at the waters edge
trapped forever in the slack tides .
Something inside has broken
I know it will never heal .
Into the kiss of the summers heat .
The rumble of the brown Earth.
The rhythm of the gentle waves.
A tolling of a lonesome bell .
In the swirl of the quiet light .
His name is always on the wind .
May the Angels speak
the ancient whispers
and sooth the Quiet Lion .
Say his name for peace .