Verstummt, erblindet, verdorrt, erfroren
Torches aflame… the pale one be my guide home when all alone volition steps aside for the eternal night and endless scorn. The final urge slowly consumed by my nemesis as I descend into crypts so cold, so endlessly black… Free from knowing friend or foe, united by the end of all hope. Counting days that will never pass for what I reach for lies beyond their end. Who can resist the lure of hope when carried by icy winds alone? The most tormenting questions remain unanswered in an endless strife for its own end. Still the will is blazing from the flame led astray which was spawned to make it perish. Willing to cease when eternity becomes salvation. The cessation of the will at the vortex of the death of time… ready to die.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
A will adrift in a sea of cold sorrow, still seeking shores of pure desolation. Like being born deaf and voicing the will to speak, free to be heard… Close and kept by force to shores of life, still seeking paths of no return. Like a painter fleeing into blindness, free to die…
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
The landscape of my soul forms a grey desert where the few breeds of green are over and over covered with black thorns. Where I once held feelings the seed of death sprouts from, where I once held a torch, the hiss of blazing embers, where once skin protected me, only glowing red, and the salty poison of tears is circulating in my blood. This liquid forms a sea of ice, too cold to host the plague of life. Poisonous, dreary and dead, a grim swamp of endless frost and no land in sight…
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026