Thorns of Vespertine - The Candle of Undoing

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“Each inch the wax regaineth breath –
Yet love reborn doth wake up death.”

In a forgotten abbey, cloistered in stone and sorrow, a grief-struck monk discovers a candle unlike any other – one that burns backward through time. With trembling hands and heart heavy with mourning, he lights it in desperate hope of reclaiming his lost love.

And she returns. But not alone.

“The Candle of Undoing” is a tragic duet of devotion and doom, told in strict stanzas of 17th-century English – where the dead speak, the living bleed, and love dares to cross the grave. A dialogue between man and revenant, between memory and the monstrous.

This is Thorns of Vespertine at its bleakest and most poetic – for those who mourn by candlelight and pray for time to break.

• Full lyrics inscribed below
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In cloister’d cell ‘neath Abbey’s crown,
A monk did light a taper brown.
Not down, but up the flame did climb –
And wax drew back the hand of Time.

What gift is this – this wax that climbs the past?
With ev’ry inch, a grief undone at last.
The birds return, the lilies rise anew…
And still I burn, to find the time I knew.

Who calls me hence from sleep so deep and wide?
What hand of light disturbs death’s gentle tide?
Thy voice, once sweet, now trembles through the veil –
Thy soul doth knock upon the coffin’s nail.

O love! My dove! I lit this flame for thee –
To bid thee walk again and bide with me.
The world was ash, my joy a ghostly thing –
But now thou com’st, and mak’st my spirit sing.

Thou know’st not what thy candle dares unbind –
For backward burns the flesh, the soul, the mind.
Each moment turn’d doth tear the threads once sewn –
And what returns may never be thine own.

Then let me pay, though blood be ask’d as toll –
To hold thee once, I’d trade my threadèd soul.
If wax can raise thee from thy dark’ning keep,
Then let me melt, and feed the flame so deep.

I feel the wind that once was breath in me,
The stars return, the soil forgets the sea.
But something walks beside me, not my kin –
The door swings wide – and darkness enters in.

The candle bends, and time begins to scream –
What have I done, unravelling thy dream?
Thy hand is cold, thy shadow twice as long –
I fear my love hath made thee gravely wrong.

Thy flame hath made of me a thing unwhole –
A husk of bone, a lantern’d, walking soul.
I loved thee once – now love is not my name.
Extinguish me… or feed me to the flame.

Then be it so – with hand and heart I smite,
And snuff the flame that robb’d the world of night.
Return to peace, and let me bear the cost –
For thou wert loved… and never truly lost.

The candle’s wick lies still, the wax is grey,
And time moves forth, as saints and sinners pray.
Yet in the chapel, faint beneath the choir,
Two shadows linger by the unlit pyre.