Birth of I Am

In this darkness Complete catastrophe As noble angels fly Into dark around The fire, frankincense and Mir All the senses blazed as this A woman’s lips no longer kissed Held fangs and scalded scythe Her penance masked forgiveness Water let her dye Her feathers growing caudle still Upon a grave to be Attacks of pain like chariots whip Cracked her by the side Still remaining shield and sword Plentiful on turning tide A land lost once reclaimed A hail, a cheer went out Hail Great I Am all hail Him born to be