You carried no scripture, just dust on your shirt
You wrote me in silence, then tore up the note
Your voice was a hunger the prophets all feared
I dreamed of your shadow until I disappeared

You spoke in dead languages only I knew
You cracked open time and you poured yourself through
You drank me like water
Like a grave you forgave
And I followed your singing straight into the cave

You gazed at me like a sinner who almost believed

I wear your name like a nail in my shoes
My beautiful stranger, the laughing muse

Your words grew louder than the trumpets of war
You dripped through the keyhole and carved me a door
I walk through the riddles you left in the breeze
My crown made of thorns, my soul on its knees.