[Lyric] Century of Hands (Victory Over The Sun)

Century of hands that reach
From a burning point in time

In each crease a flock of birds’ nests
On each fingertip, a grove of palms in blossom
Swathed in the scarred scarves of holy words and
Cradled in the wet arms of your tongue
Contracting and turning, demurs

Where the sun should hang, above the
Manifold of salt and sulfur respires a
Symmetry of hands collapsing
Into three vertices of light

On each crease a flock of birds’ nests
On each fingertip a grove of palms in blossom
Swathed in the scarred scarves of holy words and
Cradled in the wеt arms of your tongue
Expanding and bursting, excoriates and
Signifiеs in forms the isometric etching of its lost song:
“torn asunder by thorn and thunder
Born a hart and died a hunter.”

Comprehending this, I glimpsed in
My own hand the flocks and orchards
Fading now but still alight with
Bastard wings and pinnate branches
Sloughing off my skin to grasp at
What I could not know, as the hand said