Two-Thirds God and the Third That Mattered

Lyrics

**Central Image: The felled cedar tree — the moment of cutting the sacred wood, the severing that changes everything**

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[Verse 1]
You stand at the edge where the green wall breathes,
axe heavy in your palms, your mirror neurons firing—
you've watched the craftsmen swing a thousand times,
their motion mapped inside your motor cortex now.
The cedar rises like a prayer that won't be answered,
and you're the one who gets to break it.

[Chorus]
Your hands know what your mind's still learning:
that taking something whole teaches you to hold.
The blade finds wood the way synaptic pathways find their groove,
and every ring inside that trunk is a memory you're about to touch.
You're alive in this, completely.

[Verse 2]
Long-term potentiation blooming in your chest—
each swing strengthens the connection between muscle and knowing.
Your proprioception dancing, balance shifting as the weight comes down,
your body learning through repetition what your words can't yet say.
The tree does not resist; it simply yields,
and you discover something about surrender in the act of conquest.

[Chorus]
Your hands know what your mind's still learning:
that taking something whole teaches you to hold.
The blade finds wood the way synaptic pathways find their groove,
and every ring inside that trunk is a memory you're about to touch.
You're alive in this, completely.

[Bridge]
Your theta waves slow as the final fibers split—
presence absolute, interoception screaming:
*I am here, I am strong, I am changing the shape of the world.*
The wood falls. You're still standing.
That's the moment. That's everything.

[Chorus]
Your hands know what your mind's still learning:
that taking something whole teaches you to hold.

[Outro]
The cedar lies in sections at your feet,
waiting to become the door, the beam, the bed.
You touch the fresh-cut face—still warm, still breathing—
and you are no longer the person who arrived at this forest.