In these ungodded skies, silence falls through 
the birds and your untenanted soul sings 
through the emptiness. A lonely house
whose shadow is its own.

O lonely house, tidied of voices,
guarded by the nothing you know
and the nothing that knows of you,

there shall be no cleansing here, nothing 
shall be washed away. Nothing shall unfold.
The heart is left ajar. 

At your sides the darkness crouches, as 
you part the curtains of God, and confess 
yourself unto yourself.