The bell is tolling to the storm,
From peak to peak it magnifies,
Until the wilderness is filled
With crash on crash of peeling bronze.
The fall: its horrors kept inside.
The fall: its myths and anguished guilt.
The fall: a never world of sin.
The fall: untouched, unblemished lust.
And still the bell is drawing howls
From all the broken hearts, repressed.
It shatters spells of hidden dreams,
It makes belief, it makes it scream.
The fall was beaten from the clouds.
The mountains break the passion’s fall.
response to the film Black Narcissus