Midsummer Sunday Lyrics

From white leaves to green leaves
Cut by the word-weaving scythe,
Finding the presence,
The shore-line of emptiness shines,
Ageing in season
The wine of the year's second sun,
Our altar of absence
In shades of immaculate exile,
And the flame of being
Burns through me
And softly you kindle the fury,
From loneliest longing
The scepters of solitude rise and fall,
And from bane-trees of wisdom
To dark cliffs of sorrow we fly,
Wading through waves
In the birthing and drowning
Of noontide,
The solstice of life
In the scorching of Midsummer Sunday
And the flame of being
Burns through me
And softly you kindle the fury,
How secret sighs the sea...
From cloud into clearing
The bright wings flicker and die, again,
Whirling and reeling,
The dancing of death into life,
Ageing in season
The wake of the year's second winter,
Our journey of life
Through the arc of immaculate exile,
With hawk eyes piercing
We tear through the veil of the sky
And in child eyes dreaming
Our secrets will burn
Through the grey sleep of night,
Wading through waves
In the birthing and drowning of moontide,
The solstice of life
In the waning of Midsummer Sunday