Neil Hurley | Chain Letter (your_caretaker) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-09-30 20:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, ~princess luna |
Who? Neil Hurley and OPEN!
What? A prayer meeting, perhaps? X-D <3 I dunno, I dunno what Catholic prayers require a minyan...! >__>
Where? The church, hen vahen~!
When? Sunday morning (sorry about the backdating!)
Why? Because Neil has never actually had himself a real religious thread? X-D <3 <3 <3
Open? Yes, please! :-D
Status/Warnings? Open/ongoing/threaded, and as far as Warnings: well... there's a very hoarse singer within the church that morning...! lol!
Neil has been confused by the idea of getting music off of a computer rather than a proper radio, when he'd first been told about the idea by Rachel, but... well, he'd quickly gotten used to the idea, of course, given that it was so much easier, to make a choice among millions of songs -- strangely, the opposite really ought to be true, Neil had thought, thinking that if he had a limited number of mix tapes, then there would naturally be an easier choice of which music to listen to - but then, of course he had become horribly spoiled by the idea of having unlimited hymns at his very fingertips, to listen to (and to quietly sing along with inside the safety of the shower, where no one could hear him over the running water!)... well. Anyway's, he was glad of the unlimited nature of his new music collection, now.
Especially now he was sitting alone in the church ruins, again, as he always had of a Sunday morning - even after the monk had gone and disappeared from the place, and thus could no longer listen to Neil's confession and to feed him the Eucharist - Neil of course, hadn't taken communion since the funny little monk had vanished from the island, not feeling worthy of touching the wine chalice and the breadbox himself - not with such blood as there was upon his hands...
But he did feel perfectly comfortable Singing here, outside of the relative safety of the Shower, because really, he'd been here for every Sunday since he'd arrived on the Island in May, and thus knew that no one was anywhere near this place of a Sunday morning, at least not since the Monk had disappeared...
And so he cleared his scratchy throat, and began singing a lovely (if slightly silly at the bridge, at least!) little song he'd had the fortune to hear upon this Youtube business, this past week...
"When I can't find the words
To say how much it hurts,
You are the healing in my heart!
When all that I can see
Are broken memories
You are the light that's in the dark.
"You are, You are the song,
You are the song I'm singing
You are the air,
You are the air I'm breathing
You are the hope,
You are the hope I needed
You are...
"And when my circumstance
leaves me with empty hands
You are the provider of my needs
When all my dirtiness
has left me helpless
You are the rain that washes me
"You are, You are the song,
You are the song I'm singing
You are the air,
You are the air I'm breathing
You are the hope,
You are the hope I needed
You are...
"If I had no voice,
If I had no tongue,
I would dance for you like the rising sun.
And when that day comes and I see your face.
I will shout your endless glorious praise!"
He then gulped a little, as he heard a little cough ring in his ears, alongside the hoarse yet warm tones of his own singing; that wasn't himself coughing, he was almost certain... He spun on his heels, turning to look at the intruder to his... private worship service, of sorts...! "S-so sorry about that... I didn't mean to be so damnably loud!" He chuckled a little, bashfully, and ran his fingers through his blond curls. "I mean, of course G-d can hear me, no matter how quietly I sing, so... yeah... Sorry if I woke you up....!" He grimaced, genuine apologetically.