The Service for All Souls (Aspergillum (reprise))

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
November 2nd, All Souls' Day, dawn at the Coral Pulpit.
High tide laps the smoothed rock, 14 degrees Celsius, wind brisk from the south.
Reverend Goss stands there, brass basin dented on one side,
filled with holy water mixed faintly with seawater, as folklore whispers.
He grips the aspergillum, metal sprinkler, perforated bulb,
worn wooden handle polished by years, slight rust at the base.

[Chorus]
Aspergillum, humble tool, you carry sanctification's weight,
as Father John Bosco said in 1865, at age 50, in his writings.
You scatter drops over the waves, connecting to mariners' spirits.
Reverend Goss flicks his wrist, water arcs in the salt air,
tang of seaweed and decay clinging to every breath.

[Verse 2]
The pulpit, natural formation, centuries of waves carving it,
long shadows stretching as the sun rises slow.
No congregation today, just the crash of waves, relentless roar,
punctuated by the clink of your bulb against the basin.
Goss murmurs prayers for the unnamed, the fisherfolk lost,
their stories missing from the records, like ghosts in the tide.

[Bridge]
You, aspergillum, dipped and lifted, sealing the nasopharynx of the sea,
preventing the nasal cavity of grief from flooding back.
A quiet joke: even saints snore in their vibrations here.
But morally, we spare no one; the dead demand their due.

[Verse 3]
From the 1843 liturgical manual, coastal blessings noted,
and St. Mary's Island records of 1871, high tide services.
Goss honors them, sprinkling for souls journeying across water.
The small strange fact: seawater mix, frowned upon but potent.

[Outro]
Aspergillum, rest now in the basin, service done.
The tide recedes, leaving damp coral, mineral scent lingering.