Translate the Night

I try to speak, but some thoughts are too loud for words. My lungs collapse into the cadence of the earth. (So read between the exit wounds in everything.) Alone, I'll taste the spite and translate the night. Fury, fear me, empty in the shell that I've become. White flag, wave for peace, but my shame will not atone. Syntax collapses while the gloaming settles in. Can you meet me out past the place where our language met its end? If you're breathing again you'll hold your vows and say goodbye. If you're breathing again, spell out the world with open eyes and speak with the caution of colliding satellites. We're dancing with the dark - our tongues are tied. Translate the night. Where do we go when our breathing slows? The words who once escaped return in time to chase us through the unknown. We become who we are: Children left in the dark. Syntax collapses while the sunlight filters through. We'll fade away - nameless in the wonder, numinous in You. If you're breathing again you'll hold your vows and say goodbye. If you're breathing again, spell out the world with open eyes and speak with the caution of colliding satellites. We're dancing with the dark - our tongues are tied. We will translate the night. Aftermath is zero wrapping me in oblivion.