Авторский текст из финального пакета. Сверка с аудио — после загрузки записи.
Before the gate,
before the flame,
the night had never
heard my name.
No wall behind me.
No road in sight.
I stepped beyond
the edge of light.
The garden ended softly
where roots forgot the wall.
No angel barred the pathway.
No voice pronounced my fall.
I stepped beyond the language
that placed me at your feet.
The night became a country
the moment I could leave.
Behind me, morning narrowed.
Ahead, no road, no sign.
The dark had never opened
until the step was mine.
I was not cast out.
I chose the night.
No hand behind me.
No sword in sight.
I crossed the silence
before it knew my name.
The road was open.
No gate.
No chain.
Later they raised a threshold
where no threshold stood.
They set a flame above it
and called the warning just.
They carved my name in iron
and fixed it to the door.
Every tongue that formed a no
would fear the world beyond.
They called the night a sentence.
They called the road a fall.
They raised a gate where none had stood
and named the gate the law.
I was not cast out.
I chose the night.
They named it falling.
They named it shame.
They drew a border
through the path I made.
The road was open.
They built the gate.
You needed a fall
where there had been a leaving.
You needed a curse
where there had been a choice.
You gave the dark my body.
You gave the gate my voice.
Then every child who heard my name
mistook your fear for truth.
I was not cast out.
I chose the night.
I found the world
you named outside.
They named me darkness
because I would not stay.
The road was open.
You built the gate.
They say
I was cast out.
No gate
stood before me.
The gate
was built
behind me.