Omen Daughter

Zarathustra: “I drew The Tower in reverse. They told me it meant survival. They never spoke of what survives. Some ruins refuse to fall. Some wounds refuse to close. Some daughters refuse to die. The lightning struck long ago. Yet still… I remain.” (Thank you for listening to my song, I do hope you enjoy Zarathustra’s story!) Lo, the bells did toll ere yet the heavens clave with fire, I heard the stones begin to groan beneath the kingdom’s spire. They named me cursed, they named me mad, they cast me to the pyre, Yet every spectre haunting these halls knoweth their desire. I saw a realm raise lofty walls on falsehoods finely spun, A citadel of paper crowns beneath a faithless sun. Ye swore the stones would shelter thee, that ruin should not come, Yet now thy prayers ring hollow through the wreck of all ye’ve done. Lay hand on me once more and thou shalt learn what lingereth still, For broken things grow sharp of edge when tempered by ill will. Thou knowest not the burden borne by hearts that fear the flame, When every road returneth home and every wound the same. The Tower should have fallen, The lightning should have won; Yet still I drew a breath beneath the ruin one by one. I bear each warning cast aside and buried in the loam, Each daughter marked as wicked, each soul denied a home. Each name they sought to banish carved deep within my skin, The tempest came to end me, yet only drew me in. Harlot, widow, heretic, I am each omen they would fain forget. Saint, sinner, sacrifice, I am the debt they have not reckon’d yet. Thou wearest righteousness as mail adorn’d with gleaming gold, Yet I have seen the rot beneath the tales that thou hast told. Thou fearest witches, for they see where mortal eyes are blind, The pages torn from sacred books, the truths left far behind. The Tower should have fallen, The lightning should have won; Yet I fashion’d me a throne from all that I’d become. I am not thy martyr, Nor proof of heaven’s grace; I am the woman standing lone upon that broken place. And when the firmament doth rend, And when all kingdoms bow, The Tower standeth but awhile to watch their ending now. (Storyteller spoken, music stops, story ending.) Der Himmel ist mein Zimmer, The heavens are my chamber high. I made my dwelling in the cleft Where doom and prophecy lie. The stars bear witness true. For oft the greatest tragedy Is knowing what is due.