The Night Birds Psalm

by Stone Breath

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I see the moon and the moon sees me. She holds me in her gaze. She lifts the sea and parts the waves And draws me through her gate. I hear the cries all in the night, Ringing across the sky, Calling through the trees and corn, And over mountain high. And the night birds quiet now. The night blooms slowly fold And bow unto the haunted breath Now quickening the cold. I see the moon and the moon sees me. She holds me in her sight. Beneath her glowing body bright, I trade my days for night. Night flowers open to her light And night birds sing her psalms. While sleeping dreamers shut their eyes, Awake I wander on.
Shall we spin the bottle now? Or shall we spin the scythe instead, And see what reaping brings us then Beneath the winding web? Beneath the clouds, beneath the sun, Or beneath the falling rain, Beneath the woven branches high, And through the fields of grain. Lut us flip a shiny coin Or a card upon the stone And see what fortune calls to us By devil or by throne. Through the pines and through the thorn, And all through the twisting oak, And around the clearing walks Something we awoke. Skip a stone upon the lake And see how far it glides before it falls. Write these words on leaves And see how far they drift away before they fall. See the holy angels there, So sad like dying birds before they fall. Turn the page, my Long Lost Friend, And read until we reach the end Of love and prayers and fallow fields And all we understand. Within the mist, within the ash, And within the deep green sea, And within the seven things Placed inside a hollow tree.
Walking Sam 07:10
Who's the man who's gonna drink your whiskey? Walking Sam. Who's the man who's gonna drink your wine? Walking Sam. Who's the man who's gonna turn your mood? Walking Sam. Who's the man who's gonna drink your blood? Walking Sam. See the shadow has red eyes! Hear the unholy cries! Somewhere hidden in the night, A black hat against the moonlight. Who's the man who's gonna howl like thunder? Who's the man who's gonna cry like rain? Who's the man who's gonna chase your dog? Who's the man who's gonna fade like fog? O, can you see him standing there? So tall, with that long and tangled hair. He's got death upon his tongue And Walking Sam's gonna call to someone. Who's that creeping 'round the bushes? Walking Sam. Who's that creeping 'round the graves? Walking Sam. Who's that playing with the bones? Walking Sam. Who's that creeping all alone? Walking Sam.
All is spun and spinning, Or waiting to be turned - In silver silk now weaving Songs waiting to be heard. O silver web, O shining thread, O gleaming cord and braids, O knotted string touch everything, As it blooms and fades. As it blooms and fades. We listen to the spider, Spreading on her web, Where her fine, fine thread Entwines the sleeping dead. O silver web, O shining thread, O gleaming cord and braids, O knotted string touch everything, As it burns and fades. As it burns and fades. It's tied unto sweet Mary's tongue And fastened to the stars, And twisted through Osiris' eyes To anchor on far shores. It winds among the sharp hawthorne And weaves all through the leaves To twist upon the branches high Connecting tree to tree. Carrying the oak's lost word From black ground to the clouds, It follows lightning strike to earth, To make the moth's fine shroud.
What once was black is silver now; The spiral changes everything. What once was smooth is tangled up. Add another ring. add another ring. What once was green is fading now. What once grew high is falling down. What once was living is dying now. What once was still is undead now. And all the pretty blossoms fall But all the blooms return again. And Thunder runs until he sleeps Then Thunder runs on through me. In the glass reflections see: Another line in this old tree. I remember when you laid with me, Now in another's arms you sleep. And though the blowing storm rolls in, I hear the little sparrow sing: "Add another ring. Add another ring. Add another ring. add another ring."
Shrouds and dreams are slippery things That cover lidded eyes And hint of those that walk unseen Beneath the starless skies. Like candle smoke upon the breeze, Or twisting through the halls, An autumn leaf so silently is dancing as it falls. Some bell that rings so far away, Echoing o'er the hills. A hollow tree with leafless branch That in the wind doth sway. Look there! Look there! The shadows move: Some secret shade From waking sight removed. Listen! Listen! It speaks! It Talks! A whisper; a moan; It sings out as it walks. Hold close! Hold close! Your cloak draw tight; The air, it turns, and chills the dark, dark night. Breathe in, breathe in, The night has made A lingering smell: Sweet flowers and damp grave. Petals fall upon the earth And vines wind 'round the stones. The gras that grew, so suddenly Is covered by white snow. A voice like leaves, Dry and cracked, Floats upon the breeze, And drifts against the graveyard wall Crying for release.
As white as the snow he stood upon. As quiet as the night. No cross between the horn to shine, But shining nonetheless. Like spiderweb in moonlight Or like the moon itself, He shone in forest and in field. O let his runs be blessed. For rough and rowdy hunters, With arrows and strong bows, Would put a point into his side All for to boast and brag. But light as snow, he ran like wind And red blood never stained The bright white snow; the shining hide; The snow-white, ghost-white stag.
Along the path, we parted ways. I walked the night, you tread the day, And we forgot we slept in knots All on the sunset coast. We shared our meals; we shared our songs; By candlelight or by the sun. I know you've sung one thousand more All since the time you've gone. As every bird has taken wing; From branch to branch; from tree to tree; Without a thought of cloud or thorn. As water over stone. And so it is you've flown away. My friend, I think on you today. I hope sometimes you sing my songs All on the sunset coast.
One Good Eye 05:03
My one good eye sees the world through a mist. My one good eye sees the sorrow and bliss Of men and birds - of birds and men. My one good eye can't read the text, But my one good eye can see the signs In the fiery sky where the moths do fly. Men call me blind, but I can see: There are certain things that appear to me - Like the flame and the spark; And the Red Hand Mark; And the bloody moon which falls too soon; And the red morning which shows warning With tooth and beak and lightning streak. My one good eye sleepless stirs Upon the end of men and birds - But it dreams of war and the Horsemen Four. My one good eye can't aim the arrow, But my one good eye can see the point: Baptize with blood. Anoint the mud. Well, I can see certain things Like holy water from holy springs Where lonesome pilgrims stop to sing And weary sinners stop to pray. Here I fall upon my knee: Less than sinner, bird, or tree. My vision clears. I start to cry. Tears fall from my one good eye.
Why put this sadness on me? Why crawl inside my mind With scrying bowl and tarot card? What did you hope to find? Why tie some phantom to my heart To prove that it is there? Why hold my hand at midnight But in daylight never dare? Why call to me when when I have gone And ask me to return? O, you could have had me once, But now that time is gone. Why melt red wax into my hair? Why knot a witch's string? Why swing a little pendulum To try to get to me?
Little Timmy is haunted By the voices of the dead. His brother likes to tell him That it's all up in his head. His mother kneels and prays These words are never said - But little Timmy hears The voices of the dead. Little Timmy listens To the sound of sabbath speech. Kneeling on sunday, He hears it from a priest; But lying in his bed A blacker talk is cast, And witches' words now chill like icy drafts. And Timmy spends his time Walking through the graves. Sister Anna catches him All for his soul to save. She tells him he will fall Down into coffin grim To lie with the skeleton's arms around him. O this is no deterrent For a boy who hears the ghosts Calling from the earth below In single voice or host. He sits among the headstones Singing little songs, While his mother mutters, "Something here is wrong."
Who is listening to the breeze? Who is watching from the trees? Who is waking from their dreams To read the signs upon the leaves? Who is listening? Who is there? Who shall hear and who shall care? Who shall speak in lonely tongues Beneath the moon, beneath the sun? A murder of crows hangs on that tree To sing the death of a dream to me. Who is listening? The dead and grey. Where Shall I find thee? In the rain. Water flows in bubbling stream, Over rocks and under me. Who is listening? The twisting vine. Where shall I find thee? The edge of time. Moth wings shade my eyes from stars. Ring the bell and spread the cards. Who is listening? The mist and cloud. Where shall I find thee? Beneath the shroud. Tell me who do you sing to, Tim? I am singing into the wind. Who is listening? Sticks and bones. Where shall I find thee? Under stones. Water flows in holy spring, Under sky and over me. Who is listening? Walking Sam. Where shall I find thee? In dust and sand. Crows sing murder from the trees; Caw and screech my destiny. Who is listening? Only me. Where shall i find thee? Between heartbeats.


released October 31, 2012

Beneath the silver web, we were:

Kira: voice
Yaschmutz: zuk
Brooke Elizabeth: voice
Carin Wagner Sloan: voice
Prydwyn: voice, whistling, guitar, harp, flutes, whistles, metallophone
Don Belch: guitar, banjo, lute-guitar, pump organ, drones
timeMOTHeye: voice, lyrics, cello-banjo, moon guitar, banjo, harp, dumbek, guitar, bodhran, stick dulcimer, banjola, lute-guitar


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Stone Breath Red Lion, Pennsylvania

Stone Breath is not new. It is cracked. Broken. Imperfect. Hidden. Weathered by the seasons.

We sing of ghosts and of forgotten paths through forest and fallow field.

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