Marrow Of The Spirit

1. They Escaped The Weight Of Darkness
2. Into The Painted Grey
3. The Watcher's Monolith
4. Black Lake Nidstång
5. Ghosts Of The Midwinter Fires
6. To Drown

1. They Escaped The Weight Of Darkness

2. Into The Painted Grey
The jagged lines in these wooden hands
speak of a silent aeon below the depths
of an austere ebon tide
for centuries kingdoms have risen
upon the ancient hands of a god
once severed for the world's birth
a sacrifice to the storms of life
now darkness is thine sanctum

Temples of magma steam across the grey
The arc that transcends my iconic pride
For I am not an ageless god, no, I am imprisoned by time
These ancient palms shall once again be mine

Hands...hands that lift the oceans
to vertical depths above the stars
For when I die, the universe will die with me
and all will be lost forever gone

Where am I?
How long shall I suffer here?
Forlorn in the cold neolithic embrace
Forsaken deep in the sullen tide
How long shall I suffer here?

Perched on the cliffside gazing out into the brine
My archaic beard pours downward and joins the feral sea
I am the heritage; the quintessence of myth and legend
The archetype of Pagan might and divinity

Hands...hands that lift the oceans
to vertical depths beyond the stars
I gather a celestial blanket around these tired bones
and finally slumber in the clouds of ice
These are my hands... it is done

3. The Watcher's Monolith
Blue textures cascade downward to the base of the monolith
Like brush strokes on a canvas of souls
Two arms reach out a cloak of silent nihil
Revenants untouched by the scythe
They are lost in the dark woods of time

Aloft in the landscape that you hail
I am the fog that seeps over here in the early hours

Standing proud in the hollow of the land
A vestige of deeper purity etched in spirit against the sky

The menhir had runes carved in limbs of oaken sovereignty
and could see the ages growing from within the palms
I can feel the era slipping into oblivion,
no longer grasping the textures
I am slowly becoming stone

As wolves celebrate the dusk,
an old voice of wisdom haunts the vale

Shapes flicker in the fire light through the windows
The woodlands burn with grace
Their silence drowns the age

As wandering ghosts pass through the flames
A new age of rebirth lights the dawn

But who are they who pass by the window?
The shapes; like black solar wheels scorched in the snow
by gods of the stone...
This elder stone shall never fall!

Cast the aeons into the void
So that no other can seek them
No age, no hands shall taint them
Pour the sorrows into the sun
They are lost forever in dark woods of time
Carve the symbols into the stone
So that another can find them
No age, no hands shall change them
Pour the ages into the sun
They are lost forever in the dark woods of time

4. Black Lake Nidstång
Written in the waters...

[voice of the dead:]
"Our shadows seep into the dusk
like cranes that melt into the pool;
a black lake in which they descend
pale ghosts caress the Nidstång in the dark
its face scarred by the ages,
its curse sent with heathen breath
to poison the waters of the black lake
We are...we are the faces below the ripples
A deep sorrow travelled through the woods
And found a home in our humble grave"

[voice of the Niðstång:]
"I've sent this peril...
To the world; this peril shall spread all sorrows
And you are but gods
watching from below at the base of the totem
in the black temple of the Earth
I am...I am the silence inside the tomb
You created the stars
and gave birth to all the heavens;
the darkness of space and time
So go...go to the nightside end below"

Where have all the noble cranes gone?
Where have all the stags disappeared to?
Piled below in the tomb of this burdened pool
a curse to those who corrupt these sacred woods
a curse to those who taste this solemn water

No unhallowed breath shall seal a fate before me
Join the drowned in the silence of the black lake's womb
Accursed...written in the waters...

5. Ghosts Of The Midwinter Fires
There are ghosts in every hallway
In every room, behind every door
Peering through every window into the past
Holding onto us in the bitterness of the mire
Leaving a trace of themselves in the spaces in which they hide

...but there are no ghosts here...

There are gods in the wake of every flame
The fire that betroths the coldness of the void
In every wind, every tempest, and every snowfall
In every silence
Inside every root that reaches deep into the soul of the Earth

...but there are no gods here...

Shadows paint the dusk
Ghosts rise from the flames
To set alight in the fields
In robes of smoke and spirit aligned

6. To Drown
They escaped the weight of darkness
to forge a path into the marrow of the spirit
They chose to drown in a deeper vacancy
an emptiness that quells the null
a pool for the forgotten

They escaped the weight of darkness
to drown in another...

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