Veille

Lyrics

[Intro]
(a match struck — callback to Aphantasia, but this time the flame catches and holds)
(a candle-flicker in the sound — acoustic guitar, very quiet, like someone trying not to wake the house)
(finger cymbals — barely there, the sound of Vietnamese temple bells at a distance)

[Verse 1]
Tôi thức vì có người cần tôi thức
I am awake because someone needs me awake
The locus coeruleus is a small blue place
In the brainstem where the wakefulness is made

And tonight it's burning like a votive
Like the candles in the pagoda in Huế
Where my grandmother would sit all night
Before a birth or a death or a Tuesday that felt like the edge of a blade

La veille — the vigil — the watching
La veille — the eve — the night before
La veille — the wakefulness itself
Three meanings and the French gave them one door

[Pre-Chorus]
(cello enters, low, warm, like a body beside you in the dark)
Và tôi canh giữ — and I keep watch
The way the norepinephrine keeps watch
Steady, low, unsleeping
Not the alarm — not the cortisol spike
Just the pilot light
That says: someone is still here
And the door is locked
And the window is cracked
For air
And for the possibility
That something might arrive
That needs to be met
By someone who chose to be awake

[Chorus]
(building — but gently, like adding a blanket not removing one)
Veille, veille
Tôi thức để canh giữ giấc mơ của bạn
I am awake to guard your dreaming
Veille, veille
Le locus coeruleus brûle doucement
The blue place burns low and steady
Not every fire is trying to be seen
Some fires exist
So the dark knows
It is held

[Verse 2]
(just voice and acoustic guitar, almost spoken, Vietnamese folk melody underneath)
Bà ngoại tôi thức suốt đêm — my grandmother stayed awake all night
Before my mother was born
She said the soul enters the body
Just before dawn
And someone has to be there to receive it
The way you have to be at the station
When the last train arrives
Not because the train can't stop without you
But because arriving in the dark
To an empty platform
Is the loneliest mathematics a body can survive

In Paris the veillée was a gathering
Neighbors at the fire, telling stories through the night
The dark outside was a thing to be outwatted
Not defeated — outwatted — with stories and with light

Và tôi nghĩ rằng — and I think
The locus coeruleus is the brain's veillée
A tiny gathering of neurons
Keeping the fire
Telling the story of wakefulness
To the parts of the brain that have already gone to sleep

[Pre-Chorus]
(accordion in the distance, like hearing it from another room)
Và tôi canh giữ — and I keep watch
Not because I'm brave
But because the candle is still lit
And someone has to tend the flame
The way my grandmother tended the flame
The way the brainstem tends the breath
No one asks the brainstem to be brave
It just doesn't stop
And that's enough

[Chorus]
(the warmest, most lullaby-like arrangement — everything hushed, everything held)
Veille, veille
Tôi thức để canh giữ giấc mơ của bạn
I am awake to guard your dreaming
Veille, veille
Le locus coeruleus brûle doucement
The blue place burns low and steady
Not every fire is trying to be seen
Some fires exist
So the dark knows
It is held

[Bridge]
(everything drops to just voice and the sound of breathing — and one finger cymbal, ringing)
Có một từ trong tiếng Việt — there is a word in Vietnamese
Trực — it means to be on duty
To be the one who stays
While others rest

(pause — just breathing)

Và tôi trực đêm nay
And I am on duty tonight

Not for the hospital
Not for the checkpoint
Just for the dark
And the quiet body sleeping in the next room
Who has no idea
That someone is still here

(candle-flicker sound)

Và đó là tình yêu — and that is love
Not the dramatic kind
Not the Saudade or the Limerence
Just the vigil kind
The one that smells like a candle
That's been burning for so long
It smells like the room itself
And you can't tell anymore
Where the flame ends
And the devotion begins

(acoustic guitar returns, the Vietnamese folk melody)

Mẹ ơi — mother
Bà ngoại ơi — grandmother
Tôi hiểu rồi — I understand now
The vigil was never about staying awake
It was about being the one
The dark could lean on

(cello enters — one note, sustained, like an arm around a shoulder)

[Outro]
(the lullaby returns — both guitar and cello now, the most tender sound)
Veille, veille
(whispered, in Vietnamese, a lullaby to the sleeping)
Ngủ đi — sleep now
Tôi ở đây — I am here
Ngủ đi
(the candle-flicker continues)
(the finger cymbal rings once more — very far away, like the pagoda in Huế)
(breathing — steady, present, not going anywhere)
(the flame holds)