Dreaming Above the Sepulcher - Nightbringer

All hymns are hollow, unheard outside the gate of in-between and unbeknown fall

like wounded birds from the heavens back unto the supplicant

Thus I slumber upon the threshold of death and dream the dreams of gods

It is here that I have sung my hymns into the mouths of the dead,

that they may not rise but fall down and down through the chambers of slumber

and unto the darkness of death’s ingress

Lamentation and evocations in the same cadence, resounding like the songs of

Thessalian witches

And with bones snatched from the maws of ravening dogs I have mocked the

cathedral"s mason, constructing an ill house of darkness mirrored within the

birdless lake, a black mansion of dreaming Night Within these dolente lands

where the Incubi abound, I have chased the children of the psalm-singers from

cyprus to tomb and jugulated them one by one

In my visions I have spilled the haimakuria within graven trenches dug by my

nails from cemetery marle

I would dare to do more

I would will to go further

I would sit opposite the Lord of Slumber, face down turned to gaze upon the

cascading abyss

I would hear truths unspoken and un-scribed within silence

I would place death"s crown upon my head and intone my will in a tongue of

stygian threnodies, with cacophonous and mournful wails upon nightmare choruses

of dying lepers falling before their graves

I would draw the gaze of my daemon self upon myself that I may murder myself

and become my daemon, and move ever closer towards the incalculable totality of

the great darkness that is the supreme