Impermanence

Age and pain and decay and death Tower unimpeachable above every moment And what I give and do not give disappear tracelessly Stones dropped into an endless well The wind stirs the trees I hear the builders striking with their hammers and see the ruins and the emptiness within the ruins Vast and meaningless An infinity and eternity of emptiness Meaninglessness and waste Hollow nothing A boundless black veil Swallowing all dimensions And I know And we know The wind stirs the trees Sunlight creeps through the branches A reflection caught in a stream.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 25, 2025

Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks For washing me cleaner than I have been Since I was born into this solitude. Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon: But here I pray that none whom once I loved Is dying tonight or lying still awake Solitary, listening to the rain, Either in pain or thus in sympathy Helpless among the living and the dead, Like a cold water among broken reeds, Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff, Like me who have no love which this wild rain Has not dissolved except the love of death, If love it be towards what is perfect and Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint. Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks For washing me cleaner than I have been Since I was born into this solitude. Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon: But here I pray that none whom once I loved Is dying tonight or lying still awake Solitary, listening to the rain, Either in pain or thus in sympathy Helpless among the living and the dead, Like a cold water among broken reeds, Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff, Like me who have no love which this wild rain Has not dissolved except the love of death, If love it be towards what is perfect and Cannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025

Among the trees at dusk Gray grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern A fallen tree consumed by bramble The remains of a bird devoured by insects We are quieted by trees and stones By the illusion of stasis Against the encroachment of time Eyeless gaze, partial wing, gray talons That passed away So may this.

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025

This track is instrumental.

Is this song not instrumental?

Hermit haunter of the lonely glen Common wild and heath Lone heath and melancholy pond The desolate face of rude waste landscapes far away from men A feeling I cannot describe of lone seclusion and hermit joy Smoke curls upwards through the naked trees For a moment the lie becomes truth.

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 25, 2025

The old hills' indifference The paths that lay forgotten The skeleton weeds And the never-dry, rough, long grasses The ruins of presumed meaning The impossibility of stepping Rose-crowned Into the darkness The promise of equalizing putrefaction To return to the bosom of mother earth like frightened children yearning to fall asleep on the withered bosom of their decrepit mother and to sleep there forever Death makes things appear as they are Abject impermanence The old hills' indifference.

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 25, 2025

A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops its dead; They are quiet, as under the sea. Overhead, overhead Rushes life in a race, As the clouds the clouds chase; And we go, And we drop like the fruits of the tree, Even we, Even so.

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025