22 July 2011


Out to the silent hell there is an equally silent hill
Ere stands a sorrowing tree of woe
It has been there since I woke
I refused to visit it for shade in the moonlight
There was never a day for me again
In the time that passed I did not hunger or thirst
I dreaded moving to the tree
For I had feared it would simply move from me
There was a silence that haunted all of time
I could not hear wind nor see a sign of any sound
I would be a hopeless Mooncalf for my will
My hopes became my dreams and I suffered a trance
Where my will to live soon consumed itself
With me my trusted sword I sliced across my throat
The falling drops of blood did not pass the silent wind
And the only tree in the world grew dark and dangerous
It sang a song to my soul
In darkness a thought of stars consumed me
I began reminiscing the tribes of yester
Those that put their dead in trees like nests of afterlife
The bodies never woke
A nauseating brightness consumed me
My blood began to boil and fire took my breath
I knew that the tree would heal me so I stammered forth
If I shall eat the bark, methought, alive I would renew
As I approached the tree went dark and angered
The tone went low to pitch and disgust
I took my trusted blade and cut a branch
The tree did not die nor cry for mention
I howled through the severed voice
I fell from the wrathful choice
A cold ash ran through my veins as I was dying
The specters fought viciously for the pieces of my soul
With the memories I could not keep
The old spirits of the world would burn my wounds
My final strength I used to climb the tree
To put my soul to rest as I had done to others
From the wilted branches I hung myself for nine days
Cordon to my slit throat I could not sing
I remembered the battle hymns of each the nine worlds
I am the infidel, take me, and leave these people alone.