1. |
Fane
01:05
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2. |
Oath
09:42
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Oath
Strange aeons pass. I have known a life
Lived far too long.
The centuries smoulder in my wake
Like so many flies laid to waste
by the stroke of a hand.
And all the sadness of the world
Beats on within my breast.
Dull and soundless. I don’t sleep
Yet I dream:
That I walked once with a goat by the glow of flickering fire,
By a brook, in a forest surrounded by meadow.
In hushed tones we spoke of the fall of man
And bound our blood together 'twixt hoof and hand.
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3. |
Passing
05:31
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As a child I almost died. My skin became cold,
my heart slowed to an imperceptible patter
And the breath froze in my lungs.
They dug a grave for me.
But I was not dead. In a way, I was sleeping.
And in my sleep, I had a vision.
By my bedside stood a figure, in the shape of a man.
It seldom moved. But I knew it was waiting for something.
For weeks it stood there in silence. And then it was gone.
For many years I never saw it again
Till last week,
Standing by my window, it seemed to beckon me outside.
I shut my eyes tight. “Please, leave me alone.”
Seven nights later, it is still there, watching.
And in my dreams, frigid hands grasp at my throat.
I wake up cold. Its eyes, aglow in the darkness, pierce me.
And when the wind rattles in the rafters, it calls my name.
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4. |
Return
06:03
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I returned, at length, to the place
Where wild nettles once grew.
Stung, I searched for dock leaves in the thicket,
Picked them and placed them on the skin.
I returned, that year, to the place,
Where snow once fell upon the valley path.
For hours I stayed there, shivering in the cold.
No warmth there was to slight me, nor wind to guide me home.
What happened there where the grass grows thickest?
And the sun slants along the rocky stream?
What happened there in days become old?
The flowers do not answer
The stones do not answer
The sky does not answer
Only the wind whispers here,
An ancient tongue I know but cannot name.
Only the breeze lost in the trees
Laments my return
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5. |
Absence
02:40
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6. |
Worship
06:16
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When the whole world lies in silence
Alone, I contemplate death.
My hand is guided by the stars
And the moon
I draw the circle on the ground.
Haunted by the wind I trudge
To the place where I shall die.
A pillar of salt no more
But a grain of dust adrift on an eddy of air.
Beneath the slathering rain I call its name;
Its voice is the thunder that breaks the earth's brow.
Lightning pierces my heart and I fall.
Blood flows into the circle. Fills it. I exhale.
Death comes. And In the darkness strange eyes glow.
Talons black grasp at my throat. My skin tears.
I disappear into the night. And the world returns
Once more, to silence.
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7. |
Fragments
07:39
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Beyond the broken window, the street is deserted.
I clear away the glass; cut my palms in doing so,
Horsefly’s bite. Sharp and brief. Blood spills against the frame.
A plastic bag drifts along the street. Nothing more.
I think I hear a distant cry: it could be anything:
It is hard to believe it human. I wish it were so.
The rain comes now; it spatters the left side of my cheek,
A droplet runs along the nape of my nape.
I enjoy the coldness it brings. I remember the past.
My childhood and all the long years in between,
The loneliness in the wake. How they died
one by one by one: all whom I had loved and hoped to love
again. There is nothing now.
The way the wind sighs makes me think about death.
Up there in those rafters. A spider’s web holds my gaze
for a moment. Then it falls. To the street. Up. Beyond the
sunken buildings and the shorn-off rooftops,
Beyond the hills and emaciated trees,
Stick-like, naïve, as though scrawled by a child.
A darkness is growing there.
Spreading; staining the firmament like spilt paint from a jar
clumsily nudged by the artist’s hand.
Marring the horizon. Drowning the sky.
Obliterating the dying light.
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vendetta records Schorfheide, Germany
lebend und sterbend nähren wir die flamme
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