Be still, thou awful beast!
Howl not, ravenously, thou starving wolf!
Broken heart, thou ancient ache,
be thou my altar in a beauteous church!
So I may see there, in the darkness deep
So I may languish long in the scent of incense
for all the grieving of this land
for all who were and didn’t want to be.
And let it flow, from the wellspring, up,
let it bind our every wound
let it everywhere resound
annunciation true for all the weary
for all, who, under your reign
found no joy for their pain.