The frozen earth lays still, dead but every dreaming…
Dreams spurred by the morrowind, chilled by snows of yesteryear.
Awaken, eyes open, awake to decomposition.
Partake of this brumal genocide,
for all else has been swallowed!
Death, the beast has become its sole frame of reference.
This is a suicidal war. Naught but itself is left to be swallowed.
Is this the hour that Ahriman would permanently extinguish
the light of Ahura Mazda?
This beast has become Narcissus,
damned to perish in the monotheistic suffocation of self.
We reside in the sepulcher of Anatolia,
And it is here that we dance a resurrection.
An-archic and pantheistic, we move,
sensing no longer the artifice and it’s linear His-story of All.
Dissolve within this cyclical rhythm.
Open palmed, my heart is held to the sky,
as carrion birds tear it asunder…
This, a long neglected sky burial
for every beat gone uncherished.