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Stone Angels Lyrics by Ulver
Stone Angels by Ulver
Merely stray, image of
A wandering deity, searching for
Wells or for work. They scale
Rungs of air, ascending
And descending - we are a little
Lower. The grass covers us.
But statues, here, they stand, simple as
Yes - but what they stand for
Is long fallen.
Angels of memory: they point
To the death of time, not
Themselves timeless, and without
Strength is to stand
Of an old religion.
One can imagine them
Sentient - that is to say, we may
Attribute to stone-hardness, one after the
Other, our own five senses, until it spring
To life and
Breathe and sneeze and step
Down among us.
But in fact, they are
The opposite of perception: we
Bury our gaze in them. For all my
Suppose they see
Nothing at all, eyeless to indicate
Our calamity, breathless and graceful
Above the ruins they inspire.
I could close my eyes now and
Evade, maybe, the blind
Fear that their wings hold.
The visible body expresses our
Body as a whole, it's
Internal asymmetries, and also the broken
Symmetry we wander through.
With practice I might
Regard people and things - the field
Around me - as blots: objects
For fantasy, shadowy but
Legible. All these
Words have other meanings. A little
Written may be far too
Much to read.
A while and a while and a while, after a
While make something like forever.
From ontological bric-a-brac, and
Without knowing quite what they
Mean, I select my
Four ambassadors: my
Double, my shadow, my shining
Covering, my name.
The graven names are not their
Names, but ours.
Engraved, is a question
To beg. Blemishes on exposed
Surfaces - perpetual
Corrosion - enliven features
Fastened to the stone.
Expecting nothing without
Struggle, I come to expect nothing
The primal Adam, our
Archetype - light at his back, heavy
Substance below him - glanced
Down into uncertain depths, fell in
Love with and fell
Into his own shadow.
Legend or history: footprints
Of passing events. Lord
How our information
I see only
A surface - complex enough, it's
Deep blue - suggesting that the earth
Is hollow, stretched around
What must be all the rest.
My "world" is parsimoniuos - a few
Combine, like tricks of light, to
Sketch the barest outline. But my
Void is lavish, breaking
It's frame, tempting me always to
Turn again, again, for each
Glimpse suggests more and more in some
Other, farther emptiness.
To reach empty space, think
Away each object - without destroying
It's position. Ghostly then, with
Contents gone, the
Vacuum will not, as you
Might expect, collapse, but
Vacant, waiting an inrush of
Reappointments seven times
Worse than anything you know, seven other dimensions
Curled into our three.
But time empties, on
Occasion, more quickly than
That. Breathe in our out. No
Trees go down, random and
Way we think.
The sacrificial animal is
Consumed by fire, ascends in greasy
Smoke, an offering
To the sky. Earthly
Heaven, as we are contaminated by
Notions of eternity. It is as if
A love letter - or everything I
Have written - were to be
Torn up and the pieces
Order to reach the beloved.
No entrance after
Sundown. Under how vast a
Night, what we call day.
What stands still is merely
Extended - what
Moves is in space.
Immobile figures, here in a
Race with death gloom about their
Heads like a dark nimbus.
Still, they do - while standing -
Go: they've a motion
Like the flow of water, like
Ice, only slower. Our
Time is a river, theirs
The glassy sea.
They drift, as
We do, in this garden so swank, so grandly
Wings, fingers too fragile. Their faces
Pure spirit, saith the Angelic
Doctor. But not these
Angels: pure visibility, hovering,
Lifting horror into the day,
To cancel and preserve it.
The worst death, worse
Than death, would be to die, leaving
Somewhere in my life, there
Must have been - buried now under
Long accumulation - some extreme
Joy which, never spoken, cannot
Be brought to mind. How else, in this
Unconscious city, could I have
Such a sense of dwelling?
Raise... What's the opposite
Night, with it's crypt, it's
For day's end: impatience,
Like a boat in the evening. Toward
The horizon, as
Down a sounding line. Barcarolle,
Nocturne at high noon.
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