Farthest From the Sun

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And it was dark...and on the ivory pillar, Reaching up the sky, The azure bonds which held the heavenly realms, At one with the earth, Now crumble. They spoke: I walk the land, inner planes, spheres... O draw the fates, design the eons... For man or god, they are my pawns of play... Choose ye well for we are the prophecies... ...and by the stone, he was maimed: The once beautiful, they spoke, dwelled In a palace made of steel, As he craved for a power, Far too strong for him to reel, How can a single gesture, Disband a brethren of Gods, But, alas, the whim of one is enough... ...and there was war! Even the most venerable divinity won't dare to bend the power of the stone. Maddened, in his rage He took the orb and lifted it against the world(and all alone). And the world split asunder...a gaping hot wound in the earth... And what resounded was the agonizing scream... ...of the orb burning deep in his flesh! DIE...by the sword of the Irongrip!

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 25, 2025

Red moons rise below in the valley of shadowed crypts Lunar winds take me above on feathers of black mists Centuries I waited for my knighthood to be passed With blood a sword is sealed and given to me at last Mighty! Mother! Goddess! Queen! Maiden and Crone I've come to seek thy blessing Grant me a will of stone Kings rule by blasphemy against the sacred shrine Once fruitful wombs are bleeding christian swine I seek the Mighty Queen of mountains, lakes, woods, plains, rivers and Bathe me in Thy silver light that showers from Thy pores, For thee, oh Kerridwen, Thy land I reconquer And all the slaughtered traitors will be breeding nevermore. The sight embraces me in a cold whirlwind of souls Visions twist and turn and magickal fire cloaks me in thick smoke Feathered taloned blackest creatures, they lift me into a dream, I see the child of two royal lines that will make the druid's sickle gleam again! The Horned One and the Virgin Goddess lay together that night, Renewing vows which created our splendid holy isle What of the King Stag when the Young Stag is grown? I run free with the deer, quick feet on the undergrowth, Above the trees the whisp ring, of destiny unknown, They seek the stranger mong them, I stare into maddened eyes, Baptised with the King's life as blood flows where flesh met Knife. He was in me as we feasted and we drank, Upon that isle into spirit we all sank, The taste and smell...real and strong of spice and wine, As wolves upon a foal we fell, with teeth ripped out the spine!

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 25, 2025

This track is instrumental.

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