[clean electric guitar, heavy reverb, slow and echoing] the brittle stem gives way. a silent snap in the canopy. drifting down through the cold light, spinning, unseen by the rushing world. just a small one returning to the dust. [bass enters, a low, steady pulse] is the descent an accident is gravity blind i watch the frail things hit the earth and call it a tragedy of the wind. i feel my hands slipping, and fear the quiet dark below. [drums begin, a slow march on the floor toms] but there is a knowledge of the broken. there is a mind that measures the weight of the drop. before the forest was spoken into the void, before the foundations of the dirt were laid, the trajectory was drawn. [guitars swell, overdrive building, tempo pushing forward] you are losing your grip. your fingers are numb and the branch is shaking. you feel the plummet in your chest, the rush of the empty air, the terror of the unseen ground. you think you are forgotten in the falling. [the climax: wall of sound, crashing cymbals, tremolo picking, heavy distortion] he watches the descent! not a single atom slips from his gaze! the sovereign Father of the collapse, he knows the loss! he knows the velocity of the tear! nothing plummets outside the providence of his hand! you do not fall into the empty dark! you fall into the decree! you fall into the palm! [music sustains at peak volume, a chaotic but beautiful chord ringing out, then suddenly drops to just the solitary clean plucking guitar] every spiral. every quiet impact in the dirt. ordained. witnessed. held. [fading delay pedal, a final soft cymbal swell] you do not hit the ground alone. he knows. he knows.
