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The song is built on a foundation of deep stillness and slow, inevitable motion. It begins with a solitary, resonant flute melody that seems to echo across a high, open landscape, reminiscent of Dead Can Dance or the atmospheric work of Sigur Rós. A deep, warm, and very subtle cello line grounds the piece, representing the bedrock and the roots of ancient systems. There is no percussion in the traditional sense, but a slow, pulsing ambient drone provides a heartbeat, like the slow turning of galaxies or the breath of the Earth itself. Lyrical Themes & Structure: The lyrics are not a story but a declaration of being. They move from rejecting the superficial world of power and praise, to embracing the profound role of the observer and learner of natural law. Verse 1 establishes the refusal of temporal thrones and crowns, choosing instead the "moss on the granite" and the "sky looking down." It is a quiet, firm dismissal of the rat race. The Chorus is the core mantra. It is not sung with force, but with a sense of serene, undeniable truth. It defines the Hermit's purpose: to watch things turn, to read the world's scripture in river and rust, and to be a perpetual student of laws that were never defined. Verse 2 expands the vision to the cosmic scale, seeing empires as fleeting flames and recognizing the same universal pulse in stars and seeds. It connects the vast to the minute. The Bridge offers the clearest contrast between the Hermit and the world. It explicitly states, "Let others lead legions and govern the hour, I'm tracing the birth of a delicate flower," framing profound attention as the highest form of engagement. The Outro does not end the song but dissolves it into the infinite. It looks forward to the end of all stories not with fear, but with eager anticipation for the next tale to unfold, solidifying the Hermit as an eternal, wondering consciousness. The Overall Feeling: This song is an antidote to anxiety and ambition. It does not incite action but invites a profound, peaceful settling into one's true nature. It is for anyone who has ever felt that their real work is not in managing the world, but in understanding it; for those who find their power not in command, but in clarity. Lyrics (Verse 1) I have no want for the carved wooden throne, Nor the fever of cities that chisel their stone. I leave them the scepter, the banner, the crown, For the moss on the granite, the sky looking down. My kingdom's the pattern the rainfall has traced, The slow-turning wisdom that will not be paced. (Chorus) For I am the hermit who watches things turn, Who feels the great rhythm in root and in fern. I read the world's scripture in river and rust, And learn what the universe whispers from dust. I sit at the loom where all light is entwined, A student of laws that were never defined. (Verse 2) I've seen empires rise as a flame in the night, And vanish like mist in the coming of light. Each one is a verse in the song without end, A beginning, a bending, a turn, and a mend. The same pulse in the star is the beat in the seed, One living, one dying, one moment, one need. (Chorus) For I am the hermit who watches things turn, Who feels the great rhythm in root and in fern. I read the world's scripture in river and rust, And learn what the universe whispers from dust. I sit at the loom where all light is entwined, A student of laws that were never defined. (Bridge) Let others lead legions and govern the hour, I'm tracing the birth of a delicate flower. Or counting the echoes in canyon and cave, That time and the water so tenderly gave. To witness creation defy its decay, That struggle, that beauty, is heaven's display. (Chorus) For I am the hermit who watches things turn, Who feels the great rhythm in root and in fern. I read the world's scripture in river and rust, And learn what the universe whispers from dust. I sit at the loom where all light is entwined, A student of laws that were never defined. (Outro) And when the last story is told and complete, And the stars rearrange in their silent retreat… I'll already be there on that far, unseen slope, Leaning in close with a wonder and hope, Ready to learn the next tale to unfold… Part of the watching that never grows old.