An October night howls and a cabin lay empty
For the cold hands grasped her
Not unlike a drafty attic in December
Or a moth stuck in a cedar wardrobe
Born from the black cube of Andromeda
I have been given stigmata from Orion
The great bear of the cosmos follows me
As he searches for the lost twins of time
In my hands, a knife from the forests
For which I shall cleanse the waters 'round my home
Death gifted me a bouquet
That will silence the eternal blaze of the wood fire
By these shores, we have called this cabin our home
Do you remember the perfume of burning spruce and honey
Or the gentle petrichoral whispers of the northern rain
Would you give that up for your false idea of freedom?
A skeleton wanders these empty fields
In search of meaning
He ignores the shrieks of gods
Or the orgies of Saturn as they call his name
Ages and ages have passed by these woods
And yet, she lays awake wandering in these wastes
A bent pine growing ever closer towards the night
A whale howling to the evergloam
As he vanished into the darkwood
A moonlit burial ground
Shards of glass fall from her neck
And a child sings of a withering pyre