The Call of the Wood
Eternal suffering. Everlasting oblivion of tears falling into the dust. I want to die. But the three mothers don't grip my hand they want the cycle to be completed. I'm walking through this autumnal mist where everything dies and where everything's anguish and loneliness. I mortify my heart with love's pain and fall into the hollow deep abyss. I'm alone in the dark my being transfixed by a circle of shining souls but their laments can nothing against frost hate and the macabre veil winding my soul in an obscure seal. I would shed blood but something's hindering that to me which dark force gives my spirit strength thou condemned to wander in this mist thick as pain I'm alone in Mater Tenebra. Amen. I enjoy this event.I son of darkness drink my tears from the calix of the god who never forsakes who turns defeat into victory. I raise my hands up towards the northern icy wind and to the nothing I yell. Th at vision is mild and pure wrapped into the torments wind I stretch out my hand but everything disappears so I close the circle of fire once more and I find myself again alone in the dark. I celebrate the ancient names of this pagan winter looking for lymph and power for his soul now I've lost into emptiness. Lost in Mater Tenebra. Satan's masses mutate the weak.
Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 25, 2025
I (myself) Esteban son of the dark side, illuminated monarch of the abyss (which is) forgotten by the divine light I'm alive. Ancient now inexistent laws, which have been destroyed by you man, prevented me from waking up. I will come riding a black dragon in delirium winds and anguish wings purify the air 'cause I'm coming and sacrifice to the big tree with fire and blood. I Esteban promise... Power and glory in the anarchy of evil to you poor mortals unite in my magic circle in a way without return swear in me voices in the wind voices from a moan which fades in a delirium like the weak dust settles on the ruins of the past. Oh lost souls in the whirl of the infinite Esteban is alive... and so is the legend...
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025
Beyond the valley of the silence along the paths of ancient knowledge led from the dense odours of the wind. You will find yourself in the holy wood consecrated to the primordial gods. Baptized with the dew around the oak of this Wiccian's mass celebrated from the warbling of the crows, og great mother moon. Ishtar, Astarte, Inanna, let me feed at your breast let me celebrate the fertile union of the horned god with the pure white goddess. Follow the call of the wood. Follow the voice of the god. Celebrate in the Nemeton with red candles and autumnal flowers on the stone altar. Dress yourself with the sky in the magic circle and purify yourself with the sacred incense of Cernunnos. Bless me mother, 'cause I am your son. Blessed be my eyes, therefore I can find your way. Blessed be my nose, therefore I can breath your essence. Blessed be my mouth, therefore I can talk about you. Blessed be my chest, therefore I can be faithful to you. Blessed be my ancestry, therefore I can give life to men and women. as you gave life to the universe. Blessed be my feet, therefore I can follow your way. Let the last smoke disappear carried from the wind. Rise your eyes full of astral energy and look at the crow that will lead your return to silence. Let the night fall down on you as the death curtain falls down on life. You'll be reborn... (to be continued...)
Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025
What can wait forever isn't dead and in the long run, even death dies. The Ancient were, the Ancient are, the Ancient will be. They walked in this world, after knowing the kingdom of stars, and the stars will pre-announce their coming. But bfore then the day of men will passed. They'll descend through the door, they'll break the seals and their claws will free themselves from the ancient vice, they'll find the way in the labyrinth of time 'cause for Yog-Sothoth time is only one thing. So they'll go back and reign where they reigned once and their oaths will contaminate the earth. Oh, poor wretch you flatter yourself that you exploit their immense strength and their dirty power. Count the seasons observe the sun and the stars and when you have risen the stones and implored their power that will be the door through which you can call them out of time and space. So you will hear their terrible voices you will see ever-burning malign flames but you won't know the striking hand and the destroying soul 'cause they come without a face and men don't know their forms. But be cautious in acting so that the tentacles of darkness can't pentrate your soul as the man who was too darling lost his vital force and chaos appeared to his mind.
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 25, 2025
I'm alone the night wind's blowing on my face and the branches of the trees are crying in the big empty of this night. Step by step along the shadow path the black cloak of darkness opens the door in the place of eternal silence. Wha strange emotions are striking my body an obscure quiet is leading my mind my hands are touching the wet trees and the undergrowth is making my way blind among the mossy stones in the realm of the dead. The old ivy-mantled gate is creaking while I am opening the door of the whisper crypt. What a morbid force my soul has a hidden god is leading my steps. I am going down is this wet stairs in the stiffing dark only the noise of a drop of water is stressing the passing time I'm alone in this sepulcro. I humble being pieteously observe the men's fragilty. Putrid bones put upon marble sacella are waiting for nothing while the cobwebs are covering the ancient effigies everything's resting in a monumental silence here everything is forgotten here. I alone in this sepulcro will bring these relics back to life with my profane action. This is a sacred profanation that will give life to death the eternal life of memory. Alone in this sepulcro.
Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025