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by Hæthen

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Wanderer, Speaketh thy name And show the path To where I first fled from the thirst of grievance When the language of the ancients forever present, awakened the thought of man That which was perceived, a mere glimpse into a reality of the conceived. Where darkness lingers over the elder crests of mountains Who glare upon a land deprived of all the certain shades of existence A sonorous wind of deepest melancholy sweeps over the furrows of these jagged stone faces Centuries old I seek the shelter, a bough of winter evergreen, to shroud wisdom forgotten by the depraved. I watch the night fall like a cloak over winter lands unknown. I will conquer the utmost peaks and bring question to the sun standing on the horizon. This realm of temporal beauty will birth the sky ablaze As eternal depths devourer these peaks of old and expose the cold barren plain of consciousness. It is only through death that one shall plant the seeds of existence within the fertility of cosmic soil. It is here, subjected to the confines of a self-proclaimed reality, I shall lay my body to the soil. An immortal in the endless continuum of nothingness, I create the gates to oblivion. Wanderer, Your kingdom has fallen to the age where the seas overflow with grievance and over untrodden earth you shall forever ride For he who has naught lived shall never find death.
It was the sun, that first questioned all of life’s futility and as her rays fell onto the frost covered land, roots of forthcoming existence awakened solemnly. For it now seems, that all living has come from me. The ubiquity of ancient woods with limbs prolonged beckoned to be the sanctuary of the sky. And it is in these moments that I am one with her eternal majesty. Mighty oaks transcend this past stoic yet bereaved and await the winter of depravity. Where mountains overshadow the land allusions to the once most ancient Of eldest stone, a furrowed face of god. The eternal essence of forbearance. May this forest forever bring misanthropy from those of feeble minds And may the darkness forever grant sanctuary from the forlorn kind
He who has casteth not a shadow but glares into the radiance of his own creation shall never again harbor the weight of man’s desire but set flame to a wretched yearning heart Under the aged crown of northern shade trees solitude births the calling of primordial heathen existence. The pain that liberates thy spirit will leave anew the mountains, the water, of heritage, exalted to be. On this foundation of deadened matter which covers the lowest depths of canopy forest An approaching dawn flows onto fallen amber foliage And awakens the mind like a glimmering star starved of light. All hearken the breath of solstice calling.


released December 21, 2009


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Hæthen Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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