[Verse 1] Every house along the northern wall Had a room the sunlight crossed, Built for leaves that could not bear The white wind and the frost. Ours held only empty shelves, A chair without a seat, And sketches of impossible plants With roots beneath their feet. Across the square, the old glasshouse Had fallen out of use. Still, something pale moved through it When the afternoon turned blue. [Pre-Chorus] They said it gathered voices From the children who went near. I pressed my ear against the door. All I heard Was something breathing there. [Chorus] There was an animal in the glass, Turning slowly through the light. With branches rising from its head And a heart that moved at night. I left water by the doorway. By morning, half had passed. Someone knew that I was coming. There was an animal in the glass. [Verse 2] I folded moths from council bills And placed them in a row. I brought a pear, a copper cup, A thread tied in a bow. Each morning something had been changed— The moths arranged like wings, And in the dust, a thousand lines Became unfolding things. A river joined another river. A root divided three. The creature drew a country No official map could see. [Pre-Chorus] My mother found the dust upon The cuffs beneath my coat. She said, “There is no animal. Some doors Are safer left closed.” [Chorus] But there was an animal in the glass, Turning slowly through the light. With branches rising from its head And a heart that moved at night. I left water by the doorway. By morning, half had passed. Someone knew that I was coming. There was an animal in the glass. [Verse 3] The mineral wind arrived at noon And struck the metal frames. The roof began to lift and fall. The windows spoke like chains. I ran across the empty square Before the first wall fell. I called into the silver air, But heard no answering yell. The creature stood beneath the roof, Too beautiful to run. Its body caught a hundred shapes And gave them to the sun. [Bridge] I reached to pull it from the storm. My hand went through its side. No fur. No bone. No living breath. Just hollow glass inside. Its antlers were old root designs. Its ribs were painted leaves. And folded in its crystal chest Were drawings underneath. [Reveal] My father’s hand had marked the wells, The buried gates and streams, A way to turn the water back Through root-shaped engineering. I thought he drew the evidence, Then vanished from our lives. My mother stepped behind me As the northern window broke. She said, “He never left us. He died before he spoke. I built this from his panels. I moved the things you brought. Each night I drew another line From everything he taught. They would have burned the evidence If I had used my name. So I needed someone fearless Who would enter all the same.” [Final Chorus] There was an animal in the glass, But no creature lived inside. It was my mother finding words The council could not hide. She left water by the doorway. She drew rivers where I passed. Someone knew that I was coming. My mother was the animal in the glass. There was an animal in the glass, Made of everything we lost. It carried one unfinished truth Through every winter frost. When the sunlight crossed its body, Every hidden line held fast. The town could see the water. Through the animal in the glass. [Outro] Now green shoots fill the northern rooms. The old channels run beneath. My mother speaks more freely, Though her voice is soft and brief. Above the restored conservatory, Paper moths rise from the grass. And sunlight moves without a body Through the animal In the glass.
0/500