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The Sacred Animal

by John of the Apocalypse

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Newborn 03:35
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The Ship 03:10
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about

THE WORSHIP OF PLACE :: Tom Hirons

There is a temple I know whose roof is made of sky.
On its ceiling are painted clouds and stars
And the rooms and corridors are made of leaves and branches;
Its doors are open to all people, day and night.
Anyone may enter, whether or not they listen
To the wise words spoken within.

I know a synagogue through which a river flows
Against boulders inscribed with scriptures of moss,
Where salmon leap in exaltation and wild doves sing.
The rabbi has a beard of green-grey lichen and
His prayers are carried on the gurgling silver stream.

I know a mosque in which every direction is sacred.
Within that holy place, I see the face of the beloved
Beneath every stone and in the heart of every flower.
Fallen oak leaves are the flurries of the faithful, dancing;
The call to prayer is sung upon the whirling, wild wind.

The priestess of this shrine bars entry to no one;
She greets me in silence and in silence I depart.
Everyone is welcomed in for worship;
The congregation of all creatures give praise
And offerings to the hallowed sanctuary;
The object of their veneration is the world itself.

When I arrive in this boundless cathedral,
With my eyes unclouded by guile or cunning,
I know the presence of such exquisite beauty
And a joy so intense it’s almost unbearable.
I fall over myself trying to find the best way to worship;
I press my back against the trunk of a broad tree
Or a tower of cracked, stacked stones;
I tell my confession to the twisted heather,
And bow down before the yellow-flowered gorse;
I renew my vows in the presence of the damsel fly
And receive the blessing of the magpie and the wren.
All the while, skylarks carry my prayers to heaven.

At the altar of this great temple,
There is a fountain, invisible to my eyes.
If my worship is whole-hearted, I am washed
Clean of sorrow and all my restless thirst
Is quenched.

Standing in this sublime sanctuary,
I am cracked in two and an old well
Bubbles in my heart once again.
The water is so clear and delicious,
I cannot keep it to myself.

Will you come with me now to that fountain
And fill your cup of longing from this endless,
Untamed spring?

credits

released April 23, 2021

Patrick Hallinan - Guitars, Vocals, Keys
Steve Dwane - Drums, Bass
Kevin Donnellan - Strings

Drums recorded at Arthouse Studio, Kildare by Ronan O Halloran
All other tracks self-recorded at home

Mixed by Patrick Hallinan and Steve Dwane

Mastered by Peter Montgomery

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all rights reserved

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John of the Apocalypse

Primitive folk noise from Mayo, Ireland

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