Pan’s Daughter

In trance
She paints in vortex
Countess of the southern skies
In dance
Invokes the bornless
Priestess from another time

And it's trusting how I
Could bleed in the fire
The voice of the silent
Is leading me home

With light she guides the serpent
A hand that feeds the Luna rhyme
She only speaks in symbols
Demons grow and live inside

From wider worlds and tired shadow
A silent guide to find the question
And now she rides the willing victim
A hidden hand that lives in silence.

The midnight sun inside the opal
In dust the echoes fade away
She placed the cross upon the altar
And lived her life in silent whispers