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Image for the poem ÅRSGÅNG III: KYRKOGRIMEN

ÅRSGÅNG III: KYRKOGRIMEN

 
Unbound
Removal of miasma, limbs released
Escaped from the Neck that claims
Adrift in aether fog, but where?
Or when?


Out from transience, fickle moon
Lifetimes passed, eternity blinked
With noose in hand, I rose from death
As all that was began to sink


It was I
I have become abysmal
Earthly hands that couldn’t give life
But take it away
And I
That would tempt the fates of others
In weakness, would bribe of the godly
Damned legacy
Nothing is left to say


Vicious wind nipped at my core
Chilling as Skogsrået lament
As my muscles, like ropes
Carried me through the silence


Wreathed in the trees, a monument
And a sculpture would birth reverie


I see her essence bleed before me
This memory, a singularity
A moment that I couldn’t escape
In the coldest corner of an aged mind
Her words were a canopy for lies
Just over the horizon, she dies
With haste, pariah of yesterdays
Quick to reap the delusion


Etched upon the window of me
Beside the periphery
The strain of pressure upon my gaze
Which leaked to first behold it


Fraudulent, I have agony
When once I had the harvest scythe
What fruit is bare beneath the storm
In barren lands that stole the light?


And it was a final vow
Running in the shadow of vanity
Aching bones wrote my struggle
In the aftermath of cognizance


Heart, mind, spirit
Crushed underneath the weight of loss
Blind to the rot that surrounds


Gaping eyes could see a cage
But my stricken soul knew the way


To the church, where my journey ends
From the ivory, reached obsidian arms
Pulled further into the Cimmerian
Into the chest of the attendant, ajar


Its sacrifice was made
To forever mourn of the Devil’s return
Raven of the grave, empty tomb
Watching the woods that always burn


Kyrkogrimen, black-palmed
Speaker of truths to swallow
In its empty gaze to hollow
In its nothingness I follow


There are infinities in every gasp
Enslaved by sinews and flesh
To sojourn into the strands between
An ocean of sand would seem to gleam


And what of myself?
What becomes of my sanity
When all is lost, and all is dead?
Is this where a journey ends?


Remnants of the cycle
Shattered I, abandoned there
Internal purgatory


Ephemeral, white noise fluctuation
Inert in the fallacy
The grain of the world given sheen
I loathe to understand, to walk the year
I’ll never outlive the hand
There’s only fear, there’s nothing here


A final glimpse into what ever was
Or will become
I surrender myself into sleep
In bitter acceptance


Vultures circle overhead
Reminded of the riverbed
A semblance dives into the hole
Submerged beyond what tethers pull


Birds of thousands flew past
Counting one until the last
Forgot the end that came so fast
In skies that were as oceans, vast


A time, unbeknownst to me
Passed
A face, staring down at me
At last


I am home
Written by UbiquitousVoid (. . . . . . . . .)
Published
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