Consecrated Abysses of Dread
In the deepest heart of oblivion Where becoming flows Like a ceaseless blind river An unheard-of wisdom arises, Unveiling the age-old deception: No being is born from nothingness, Nothing fades into the void. Thus decrees the voice of the undeniable. The voice of Destiny shows what eternally shines But the eyes of mortals Are blinded by a faith so deep-rooted It has become the very structure of thought Unaware, for centuries, the West has walked Through the shadow of fundamental madness The belief that things come into the light only to perish. Forced into the coils of error, what is hailed as life is in truth The unveiled face of Death In seeking solace, one discovers nothing but sorrow, Every effort to escape the torment, is in truth A cure that feeds the perpetual agony.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
Its backdrop, its fate, is the finite circle, Still unborn to the first step upon the forsaken land Yet by necessity, not by will, Being breaks through, And the circle is drawn into the passage of night, Of despair, of horror. It rises before the eyes, Where even the eyes are but a seen The abyss of the forsaken earth A multitude of forms Of flesh-tearing deformities Drenched in morbid despair, Seize the finite appearance Like a beacon casting light upon a torn wreck, Forsaking the sea to oblivion. In the deepest heart of oblivion Where becoming flows relentlessly And the eyes of mortals are blinded By a faith so deep-rooted It has become the conformation of thought. Unaware, for centuries, the West has walked Through the shadow of fundamental madness.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
Every semblance of the earth is enshrouded In an ultimate, inexorable, distraught disease: The ceaseless dying of all things.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
The path of being does not lead to a final destination The path of being does not lead to a goal, a threshold Destiny itself does not rest, it expands There is no final crosser.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
The torment that shatters the mind, the wound of regret The burden of guilt, the corpse of the past torn asunder And the enthroned death eternal obscure necessities The fullness of horror’s shapes is ordained To reveal itself in living flesh. Only when pain and death are not simply borne, but received In their wholeness, overcome yet eternally preserved within the mystery Does the fullness of Joy manifest itself Not the Joy wrought by human striving But the Joy that flows from Destiny. No Light without Shadow. No Death without Life. No Truth without Error.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
In the deepest heart of oblivion Where becoming flows Now the wisdom never before heard reveals fragments of itself Yet though fragments, they are the very tentacles of truth. Breaking the verminous barrier of the dreadful Faith in the becoming To the eyes of the mortals Traces of what always stand before us.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026
The world Far from being dust fated for silence Has always already been luminous Always revealing the eternal structure of truth Where death is the beyond of becoming’s illusion.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jul 05, 2026