I count the seconds. I count again. I press my palm to the bunker wall. Listening. Sirens braid. Breath small. “The sands of time are sinking,” I say, I say. (Mm-hmm) Dark, dark has been the midnight; I name it, I stay. Yet a line of light lifts up the seam of the sky, dayspring rising; cold data scrolls, and still I lift my eyes to Emmanuel’s land. I speak to the crowd in my skull. I speak to the cosmos. Triage in my chest, pilgrimage in my mouth. Panic in two beats, then a long low hope. If this is threshold, let me step. Glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. (Ooh) Say the name, hold the ground, in Emmanuel’s land. Glory dwells, glory dwells, dayspring in my lungs, glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. “the sands of time are sinking; the dawn of heaven breaks; and glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel’s land.” Listen. Hear both feeds. Forecast: ice age incoming. Then heat that will not quit. (Ahh) Look. A veil lifts. I see the King in His beauty, present, unhidden; that sight unfreezes me. I step from the neutrality show into witness. Zion’s mountain stands, off network, unmapped. I speak to us, and also to the stars that overhear. We have argued long; now let the seeing stand. Trials lie between me and the summit, yet my soles learn the path as I move. Not alarms, but assurance. Not optics, but reality. Not rumor, but testimony. Not fear, but fidelity. (Hey) “It were a well-spent journey,” I repeat, I repeat, though trials lay between, we keep the vow. Veil tearing, mountain standing, we say it out loud: verified danger, verified promise now. Glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. (Oh) Dayspring rising, keep me present, in Emmanuel’s land. Glory dwells, glory dwells, I breathe and understand, glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. Blip. Ping. Click. Static snow in the handset choir. Push notification thirst with no relief. “O Christ, you are the fountain, the deep sweet well of love.” The streams on earth I tasted, thin as paper in rain; above, an ocean fullness, mercy without price. I want the source, not the traffic. I want the drink, not the hype. (Mmm) Pour it. Fill me. Let my cynic heart consent. “the Lamb with His fair army on Zion’s mountain stands, and glory, glory dwelleth in Emmanuel’s land.” Glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. (Ooh) Glory dwells, dayspring tell it, in Emmanuel’s land. Glory dwells, light of morning, hold me while I stand. Glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. Glory dwells, keep repeating, till the light can land. Glory dwells, glory dwells in Emmanuel’s land. Bride… not garment… face… I will not gaze at glo… my King… of grace… (Hmm) Not at the crown He gives… but on His pierced hands… hands… hands… The Lamb is all the glory… all the glory… Emmanuel’s land… land… land… Presence, not protocol… vow outlasting system crash… Sands of Time Are Sinking… I breathe it… I believe it…
