Possessed

Take your place
While I climb the stage,
Take your place, my Providence;
Take your place,
while I climb the stage.

I am an instrument forged in your fire,
Possess my thoughts, and my song inspire.
From the furnace of your fondness was I branded,
With the ichor of your oneness was I blooded.
You are my voice,
And to sing from the womb is my choice.

When I summon in my breath into the realm of songs
You are the air that fills my lungs,
And when I let loose melody to aid my lyrics
You, you are my rhythm.
With your grace grease my voice impaired
That when my song heard,
Even the dead may rise from the dead.

All that move is for thee,
They move as the rhythm lead.
Hear them call to me:
‘Summon to life
The joy in our waist!
Chant them excite
The beads round our waist!
That even the priests may lost in lust,
And even amidst the storm,
Dead trees may rise in awe.'

When I fail to hear the dancers’ call
Damn me not,
When I fail to hear the dancers’ call to halt
Blame not,
For talent intoxicates!

If your wind to the west should spin,
To the west I shall go;
And if your dust should circle to the east,
To the east I shall go.
You fill me whole,
I have no will of my own.

My self-possession have I slain,
Immolated on your alter plain;
My soul it lit ablaze,
My whole is still aflame;
I can't say no!
I just can't say no!