In the darkness came a chanting,
a chanting, chanting, chanting—
in the darkness as the world began
came the song decanting
into sea and star, into mere and man
From the man came a canting,
a whining discord, the song slanting
at an angle from the thrumming tune
our Composer was implanting
in sand and soul, in sun and moon
Darkness devoured when recanting,
the broken song became a ranting
swallowed inside, unmaking man
unstringing cells, souls disenchanting
emptied of magic, of God-breathed plan
From the woman came panting,
bringing to life the Re-enchanting
Light of the World, the Son of Man—
Stricken, accused of supplanting
the God who sang as the world began
Darkness hovers, its voice incanting
death to God, his world, his chanting;
the Song is silenced in the tomb—
but decay is mere soil for planting. . .
in three days, Life will shatter gloom.
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