Some rising tide
Deep inside her darkness
Some receding storm
High above her hills
O covered face
I can little behold
Your blackness
Nor the mystery
Held within
Your poverty
All mine, all mine
In the stillness
In the silence
In the sorrow
Mystery will pierce
Like a spear
The just and the unjust
The living and the dead
O my heart
Turn towards the blackness
Walk into the centre of the stillness
Stand within the silence
Encircle the sorrow
She rises and billows
As I, as I
Upon the solemn winds of change
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