1. |
Approach of Horns
02:59
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Out of the body, only being-
formless and suspended.
A feeling, as of approaching death,
enveloped me as I gazed upon
strange vistas. There rose
a swirling monolith
graven in nebulous hues.
Clasped at its heart
lay horns of twinkling light,
the mother of wolves,
circlet of night.
I am becoming…
I am being…
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2. |
Chapters in Solitude
12:21
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What is dead illuminates
and births a bowl of ashen gems.
Dreaming… the soul rises
in wisps of smoke.
A faraway voice cried,
I am lost without you.
An echo was all I had,
a memory of trees and clear water.
I am lost without you.
There I lay in a shroud of mist,
a forgotten elder in solitude:
hid from the sun by the shadows of shrines,
breathing the scents of sepulchral blooms.
They feed on long-buried flesh,
and I feel I am one of them.
Silent, rotting.
There in the water… I saw the moon…
her outline was black.
Under her gaze, resplendent-
I watched as god fell.
His flesh became leaves of seasons long-gone.
I rejoiced as I peered
into the ash of divinity…
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3. |
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It was in death
I found meaning and beauty:
pillared deities draped
in a mantle of cracked skin,
russet robes coiled at their feet,
crooked fingers reaching
towards a pale heaven
in lament-
to winter-laden clouds,
hoping to wring
from their mercy
one last drop of autumn,
laden with rain and colour.
It slowly seeped o’er all,
and framed those headless angels
in fire.
The groaning of tongue-less mouths
faintly heard,
a rasp, a hiss:
echoes of parched throats
whose blood litters the ground
in sweetly foetid clots.
Few things in this sphere
are as fragrant
as their dying breath.
Haloed by the tempest,
their shadows tracing gloom-
I saw that they feared judgment,
and in that fear
found solace.
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4. |
Whispered Amen
08:40
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I see the sun,
a burning mask of despair.
Clouds scrape through an ashen sky,
a besotted funeral procession
seeking lost horizons.
I drown myself in smoke,
watching my own mask
in a mirror of torpid waters.
Whispers and bells
bespeak dreams of misery.
I would hang on in
quiet desperation, if
it meant one more day.
Dreams of you are
buried pale .
I despair the withered shadows
of memory.
I await the cold morning.
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Dräugr Michigan
Dräugr has undergone a name change and is now called Dreichmere. Visit dreichmere.bandcamp.com for music!
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