4. HERON — Lyrics

Click to Listen: HERON
Loui Crow - streaming Feb 28

Scroll below the lyrics to read more about this song.

Lyrics

[intro]
I am already here.
Stillness studies me.
Let no beak chatter at the surface.
Let no wing persuade the air.
Wait.

Strike once.
Strike clean.
I am Heron

[verse]

Stand between current and dirt
moving and motionless meet
fish believes water is empty.
fish believes in forward motion.
Time gathers in my throat

Now!
split the trembling river!
hook my beak in the skin.
Silver confesses in frantic fits.
taste the wriggle of creation—
On my tongue
Center decides
When power belongs
I eat the answer.

[chorus]

Heron in water.
Heron holds hunger
(oh—behold my hunger)
Quicker than ripple.
Heron gets hungry.
Heron gets fed.
Heron knows
the riverbed.

[bridge]

Everything moves till it moves through me
Then motion remembers what stillness can be
strike sudden, the cause is old
Outcome arrives foretold
River keeps secrets, stones keep score
I borrow them both when I’m ready for more

[chorus]

Heron in water.
Heron holds hunger
(oh—behold my hunger)
Quicker than ripple.
Heron gets hungry.
Heron gets fed.
Heron knows
the riverbed.

[outro ]

Lift my head dripping.
Let the water close.
Heron is fed.
The river laughs
and moves ahead.

About the Song

“Heron” is a hunger song.

I’m learning the difference between impulsive action and clean action. Between reaching because something aches and striking because the field aligns. It continues Owl’s lesson, with appetite fully admitted.

Heron carries hunger without apology. Hunger shows up here as information. It sharpens attention. It trains patience. Stillness in this song serves precision rather than restraint. Waiting continues until power belongs.

What I notice while living with this song

Hunger clarifies timing. Desire gathers heat. Stillness collects it. Action lands once.

“Strike once. Strike clean.” becomes an internal compass for me. Justification dissolves when center decides.

This song teaches me how to wait without numbing appetite and how to act without hesitation once the moment opens.

Undercurrents and teachers I carry here

This song draws directly from Aleister Crowley, especially Chapter III of The Book of the Law, spoken in the voice of Ra-Hoor-Khuit.

The following lines guided the spine of this song and deserve to be shared:

“The ordeals thou shalt oversee thyself, save only the blind ones.
Refuse none, but thou shalt know & destroy the traitors.
I am Ra-Hoor-Khuit; and I am powerful to protect my servant.
Success is thy proof: argue not; convert not; talk not over much!
Swift as a trodden serpent turn and strike! Be thou yet deadlier than he!”

I hear this passage as instruction about timing and desire. Action arrives from clarity, not from noise. Outcome speaks. Explanation fades.

You may also hear Abraham Hicks underneath this song in the way desire functions as guidance. Hunger points. Alignment confirms. Action completes.

Placement in BYRDS

Owl teaches timing. Heron teaches action once timing agrees.

In the album’s internal movement, Heron acts as the regulator between vision and manifestation — the bridge where desire stays clean before it descends into motion. The body moves from seeing to doing.

If Crow watches
and Molt softens
and Owl aims,
Heron strikes.

A closing note

I remain in practice with this balance: listening long enough, then moving without apology. This song holds that practice in sound.

Across BYRDS, each bird offers a different whisper.
Heron’s whisper says: honor your hunger, and wait until it’s true.

A little crow’s on the wire, keeping watch over you.


Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com
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