Phrygian Echoes of the Field

Versuri

Verse 1 — The Field A farmer sowed in a divided land, Some seed in stone, some slipped through sand, Some choked where thorns learned how to climb, Some broke the soil and answered time. Two brothers stood where the harvest grew, One burned with hunger the other never knew, The ground drank blood before it fed, And built a city on what was said. ⸻ Verse 2 — The Birthright One sold tomorrow for bread tonight, One wore a voice that didn’t match his right, Hands dressed in wool, a borrowed name, Blessings fall where truth and shadows meet the same. A house divided still calls it peace, While quiet fractures never cease, But what is taken is not always lost— Some inherit flame, some count the cost. ⸻ Verse 3 — The Throne A crown was forged from fear and need, A thorn took root where none would lead, It promised shade but fed the fire, And crowned itself through men’s desire. The merchants weighed what could be sold, Turned breath to coin and hearts to gold, Soft were the words, the teeth were clean, But blood still ran beneath the sheen. ⸻ Verse 4 — The Servant A reed bent low but was not torn, A quiet light outlived the storm, No sword was drawn, no voice was raised, Yet chains gave way where mercy stayed. He walked where names had long been erased, Carried the weak no one embraced, And showed a power none could own— A kingdom not upheld by throne. ⸻ Verse 5 — The Watchmen The watchers slept along the wall, Dreaming comfort while systems call, Each turned inward, each fed the same, Calling it wisdom, calling it gain. But truth does not forget its ground, It waits in silence, it circles round, Till light returns without a sound— And weighs the word, and names what’s found. ⸻ Verse 6 — The Awakening Then morning broke where none could see, Not with a shout, but clarity, The towers fell without a war, What stood on lies stood no more. The poor stood up, the bound were freed, The hidden root became the seed, And what was never bought or sold Was found again beneath the old.