[Intro — William, low, almost a sermon] Before there was a word for lonely, there was Him. Before there was a light to miss, there was only Him. They call him many names. He only ever answers to one truth. [Verse 1 — William, narrating] He was first — before the fire, before the breath, before the ground. Sitting in the dark forever, not a soul to hear the sound. [Response — congregation, low] The First. The Lonely. The dark before the dark had shape. [Verse 2] He don't chase the ones who wander. He don't call unless you call. But if you gaze into that silence, that silence gazes back at all. [Response — congregation, rising slightly] He's watching. He's waiting. He answers when you're brave enough to break. [Chorus — full swell, William leading] Athair Dorcha, Father of the deep, He was here before the light could keep. Every shadow's just a piece of Him, every silence, a kind of hymn. [Verse 3 — William, quieter, personal] He found me once, half-broken, in a place I can't forget. Didn't fix me. Didn't save me. Just said, "you're not finished yet." [Response — congregation, hushed] Not finished yet. Not finished yet. [Final Chorus — full, reverent, held] Athair Dorcha, Father of the deep, He was here before the light could keep. Every soul that's ever wept found him waiting where they slept. [Outro — William, alone, whisper-close] Gaze long enough into the dark, child... ...and the dark will gaze right back.
