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Manifesta​ç​õ​es

by Terrible Light

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1.
What is that can be said on the rampage of the dying self, that haste of hands at anxious pace against the millstones of a flouring youth; Of wombs from wounds winnowed in Pollyanna daydreams tearfully etched Upon six graves, at the break of our golden age, woefully dredged; Or the restful sigh of love’s final breath to bid the solitude of flesh farewell; What is it that should be said on the rampage of the dying self? Lo! one thing I know: only a fool counts his blows; One thing I know: there’s always a tale of more woe. If God sends the wound then God sent the wound If God is wounded then God was wounded If God is the wound then God was the wound If God heals the wound then God healed the wound You hem me in behind and before You knew my form in the depths of the earth Naked I came and so shall return My life is a breath and like a shadow passes (caught in a figurative fog, lost in the draws of Bashan I knew not which mount I was on, only that for which I had longed) Should You strike me down, should I make my bed in darkness -- Where my flesh wastes away and the worms find me sweet -- I would strike the cords of Sheol, I would teach the dead Your song Though were I silent, the whole earth sings it You are Holy! Hallelujah! God sends the wound/ God is wounded/ God is the wound/ God heals the wound You hem me in, behind and before You knew my form in the depths of the earth If my life’s a breath and like a shadow passes May the shade offer rest and in passing profess, “Praise God!”
2.
Ezov 02:50
Drawn into a wilderness, no guide, save that within, the I within the I caressed me with a voice so tenderly: “You, you are my love and I, your beloved.” I am a slave formed of the dust not worth the crumbs of Your table; Yet You set a place for me a seat in the place of honor. I am the womb of a barren widow not worth a line in the sand; Yet from nought You author life, cunningly a world deliver. Still the concupiscence of my heart burns with the heat of the dog, yet again and again You clear my bed -- none can snatch me away. [For] You, are my love and I, Your beloved A fire kindled soon consumed kindled with yearning in love If ever I had loved before it was only a dream about You.

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Preparing for our next body of recordings. Here are two demos from that process.

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released December 23, 2015

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Terrible Light Nampa, Idaho

sing praises/make music

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