Low Light Cathedral by Flix Greyson

And I don’t know what prayer is,
but I know what your voice does.
Turns the wreckage into weather,
turns the ache into trust.

You make a cathedral out of low light,
make a holy thing of my bad nights.
I was a storm with nowhere to go,
you held the thunder and called it home.
You don’t have to shine to be wanted,
don’t have to bleed to be understood.
I’d choose you in every ruined lifetime,
and I’d find you in every wood.

You laugh like you’re trying not to mean it,
like joy is something you can hide.
But I see the stars under your silence,
I see the teeth behind your shy.
You’ve got that soft-spoken wildfire,
that “don’t come closer” kind of pull.
And I am not a careful creature,
but for you, I learned to be gentle.

And I don’t know what fate is,
but I know what your hands do.
Make a map out of my chaos,
make me less afraid of truth.

Come here, pretty shadow,
rest your sharp heart next to mine.
I’ll be the flame at the window,
you be the reason it survives.
No, love isn’t clean here,
it’s ink on the sheets, gold in the wound.
It’s your breath in the doorway,
it’s me saying, “I’m not leaving soon.”
And if the world gets too loud,
put your head against my chest.
I’ll make a vow out of breathing,
I’ll make a kingdom out of rest.

You make a cathedral out of low light,
make a holy thing of my bad nights.
I was a storm with nowhere to go,
you held the thunder and called it home.
You don’t have to shine to be wanted,
don’t have to run to be free.
I’d choose you in every ruined lifetime,
and somehow you’d still choose me.

So stay where the dusk can keep us,
where the neon bends like dawn.
I was only noise before you,
with you, I’m a song.

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I found you in the soft part of the evening, half a spark and half a guarded door. You said nothing like a confession, but I heard everything and more. You move like rain across a window, quiet hands and a dangerous mind. I was all smoke, ink, and static, you were the shape the dark could find. And I don’t know what prayer is, but I know what your voice does. Turns the wreckage into weather, turns the ache into trust. You make a cathedral out of low light, make a holy thing of my bad nights. I was a storm with nowhere to go, you held the thunder and called it home. You don’t have to shine to be wanted, don’t have to bleed to be understood. I’d choose you in every ruined lifetime, and I’d find you in every wood. You laugh like you’re trying not to mean it, like joy is something you can hide. But I see the stars under your silence, I see the teeth behind your shy. You’ve got that soft-spoken wildfire, that “don’t come closer” kind of pull. And I am not a careful creature, but for you, I learned to be gentle. And I don’t know what fate is, but I know what your hands do. Make a map out of my chaos, make me less afraid of truth. You make a cathedral out of low light, make a holy thing of my bad nights. I was a storm with nowhere to go, you held the thunder and called it home. You don’t have to shine to be wanted, don’t have to bleed to be understood. I’d choose you in every ruined lifetime, and I’d find you in every wood. Come here, pretty shadow, rest your sharp heart next to mine. I’ll be the flame at the window, you be the reason it survives. No, love isn’t clean here, it’s ink on the sheets, gold in the wound. It’s your breath in the doorway, it’s me saying, “I’m not leaving soon.” And if the world gets too loud, put your head against my chest. I’ll make a vow out of breathing, I’ll make a kingdom out of rest. You make a cathedral out of low light, make a holy thing of my bad nights. I was a storm with nowhere to go, you held the thunder and called it home. You don’t have to shine to be wanted, don’t have to run to be free. I’d choose you in every ruined lifetime, and somehow you’d still choose me. So stay where the dusk can keep us, where the neon bends like dawn. I was only noise before you, with you, I’m a song.

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