1. |
Pfingstlich
11:10
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Clawing through cold clay
I writhe at her odious whisperings
As pallid dusk to sanguine dawn she weaves.
Ablaze, brighter in mockery she shines
As feeble summer is cloven in twain.
Asunder I spread the roots, entwined
Like stagnant threads of gossamer spun
In this graven womb
No longer inhumed.
Together we drink, in her lurid stain,
The seeping nectar of Summer's veins
While naked boughs upon her rays
Shadowed arabesques trace.
They weep at my coming
Their once gleaming swathe
Of garments fade
At the waning of light and life
I from dying earth emerge
A wraith wrought beneath
With sunken eye and soiled caul,
Molded
Of carrion and sallow verdure
As if at the hand
Of a blind demiurge
A dismal night-bird's screeching call
Enfolding the wilderness;
footsteps fall;
the moon's bloodstained embers glow.
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2. |
Wurmian Shroud
09:32
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Ten thousand winters forlorn
Betwixt the harvesting scythe
And hawthorn scepter's blaze
Trees like haunting sculptures
Have ever girt the way
Ten thousand winters past...
The seasons were mired in grey
The heavens churned in languid streams-
Tempests thrashing on silver mirrors
And horns caressed the gibbous moon.
Chill as the void between veiled stars
The howling Wurm in hoary vesture
The with'ring world did wreath,
As the reaper o'er the moribund
His frigid pall would drape.
Huddled in earth 'round Promethean tears
The pastel light illumed pale faces
Of Man fallen benighted.
They sought hope
And severance from the cold
Through shrieking, scathing, star-blown winds
Long was the path
To a hallowed sell of dying leaves
A vestige of green seasons
With what rites, ghastly they danced
As moths fluttering towards flames.
Shadows formed and crept from their mouths,
And drew them
From the solitude of the wood
to the more dreadful solitude of heart
With tongues of honeyed thorns
They awoke me.
Leprous mouths of dwindling faith
They invoked me.
Ten thousand winters forlorn,
shrouded in gray,
the heavens shone for those who wrought my decay.
Carving their hopes in my flesh
The Wurm collapsed into my marrow
By my blood the season was bought...
Old memories
as myriad bloated corpses
Rising on putrescent tides
Of some loathsome sea,
But like the sea, they recede.
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3. |
As Golden Dust
07:45
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Only one with the glimmer of dawn
A star ascending from the depths
Once with trembling hand, and unwav'ring gaze
A singular bloom I beheld, of beauteous sorrow.
Innocent of her shining, golden blaze-
"I am withered, waning ev'ry morrow."
"Blossom, where there be day, see thou only night?"
She shone as a gem
In whose gleaming facets I glimpsed
the sun of a summer
I had never seen.
"Wherefore flower thou here?
The hour grows late, and frost
Already caresses the heath.
Should not ye have danced
In long days afore?"
"I beg thee remain
And stay by my side;
The winter is long
And I am afraid to die."
She stirred my heart,
which so long had been
A casket, empty,
of rotten wood carven.
To wander alone the asphodel vale
I could not her forsake.
Wreathed in her scent
The cold fain would claim
But close by her side
In rapture I remained.
Days as golden dust passed.
April's sunset approached at last
I achingly drew away
Once more to meet my fate.
A bid farewell, I looked in her eyes,
"When ash and oak in amber shine,
To bask in your radiance
I shall come again."
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4. |
Lamentations
11:41
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To her I return
The one I adore
Of whom in long and silent yearning
A mere season, eternal seeming
I lay dead but dreaming
The night is a tapestry overhead;
Through forests and fields,
Loping in shafts of starlight.
There-
Just beyond the pathway's bend...
In her stead a stone
of sculptured ivy stands.
Numb.
My fingers trace the scars:
'Herself she lay in blissful state
Beyond the gate of slumber to wait
Until in sunlight again we meet
we shall forever weep.
She leaves us bereaved.'
Plucked and laid upon this grave,
pedals bruised and damp with rain
Of noisome tears that spread and stain
The lingering scent of fair-flowered grace.
Wilted;
Dead;
Amaranth face.
The sun has left me
I am empty
Bleeding black soil
Would that moon had sooner raised
Me from perennial fleshborne bane...
Clutched to my breast, her florid remains...
I will mourn this day.
The night has never looked so bleak.
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5. |
Dolour
03:19
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Sunless clouds above ripen vast,
And let fall their fruit, crystalline, like ash;
Ash that slowly drifting
from fields of my heart burning
drapes all the heath in pallid sheen.
The weight of every moment becomes suffocating.
Were it better to have never known
That a star once brightly shone
And roam perdition's forsaken garden
Beneath the moon alone?
I left my heart on stone
Traced in snow.
In remembrance of her dulcet voice
I would paint her epitaph across the sky.
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6. |
The Winterlong
14:26
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Is mine the hand
that blights the orchard?
Or mine breath born
of nighted December;
the death that blooms
in starless aether?
Shorn from the sublime,
Beyond the thrall of hope;
Am I bound to infinite solitude
and suffering- not of the body,
But of the spirit?
A breeze fraught with tainted omen
rouses me from the depths of woe.
A mutter of marbled limbs
Bestirs the Wurm within my breast.
The Eastern eye peers with sickly fire
Revealing wretched faces four,
Bent and bearing through the grey
Another corpse, this cairn to join.
My visage twisting theirs in fright
They turn in vain towards morning light
My hand I cannot, will not, stay
The crows shall feast this sordid day.
...
Musing on these silent streams
In patterns pouring from the deed
As if they would for me portend,
Though cowled in forgotten tongue.
Black wings fold o'er tattered throats;
I see the answer in their descent,
In their rustling, their rending of flesh
To bring this revenance to an end.
Ten thousand deaths on me bestowed
Shall be repaid in likened fold,
A chalice filled for thee and thine-
This world to drown in draught of white.
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7. |
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This will all pass away
One hundred years I watch
Buds wither to husks
Aching for the sun,
but they are held fast,
frozen in skeletal hands
And nests lay empty.
Crawling through cold days
No mirth for Men;
no harvest to succour;
despairing,
souls flee before the blaze...
Death reflected in the Hunter's moon
Drapes crimson light on mountains
Cloaked in pine
Crouched in shadows beneath the eaves,
No more the lamb in wolfen maw,
I am waiting.
They will come
Red eyed and frothing
They will come
A Shadow looming behind.
Beyond the horizon gathered
In lifeless oaken glades;
He winds his horn wild,
The hounds, baleful, howl.
With the voice of the gale
He calls the Hunt's advent;
Through stormlit skies
They swiftly ride
Bellowing of doom to come.
Oh, it will come,
but it shall not be mine-
doom of another kind.
This will all pass away.
The Wurmwinds blow as ne'er before
The earth in ragged gasps heaving
The ghostly Hunt through sheets of white churning
Drawing ever nearer...
The howling cold so cosmic grows
That even shades succumb
The inexorable tide of the dreaded Hunt
Slows to a crawl, straining against time
The earth exhales her final breath
And they dissipate
The last stench of mankind is washed away in the snow
The Anthropocene throne crumbles
Let the dead earth fold me into her breast
As these wilted pedals I've held clasped to mine
Oh let me sleep, let me fade away
And never return,
I am weary of this world.
Mine has been a tale of desolations,
Putrescent tides of a loathsome sea
But at last, like the sea, I recede.
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Dreichmere Grand Rapids, Michigan
Dreichmere melds textures of dissonance and melody to craft long-form melancholic tracks that are both atmospheric and progressive. Hailing from Grand Rapids, MI, Dreichmere was originally formed under the name Dräugr in 2012.
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