When the world happens to feel chaotic, wearing the robes - the Okesa or rakusu - of the Buddha is akin to wrapping the world with compassion and benevolence. 

The Verse of the Okesa.

Dai sai ge da pukku/ musō fuku den e/ hi bu nyorai kyo/ kō do shō shu jō

Vast is the robe of liberation 
A formless field of benefaction 
I wear the Tathāgata teaching 
Saving all sentient beings.

This verse is chanted three times after dawn meditation - dawn zazen - in Zen temples across Asia and the West. The intention is to show respect for the teachings of the Buddha, which are signified by the cloth Okesa, before wearing it.

The Okesa is a rectangular garment worn over the left shoulder. The Japanese kesa are made of patchwork (割截衣; kassetsue), composed of five, seven, nine, or more panels of fabric that are sewn together.

Takessa Ge, Dawn Song

EL INVIERNO, LA MARIPOSA Y EL DIABLO


Invierno soy cuando más he de sentir
No te puedo ayudar

Diablo sin voluntad
Envuelto en llamas quemaré nuestros silencios

Bella y sola
La mariposa no quiere volar

Feliz mortal
Quiere posarse en mi vida

Y mientras en mi calor
La mariposa encuentra el Sol

Diablo, tú tienes rota mi alma
El invierno la acunará con frío y calma

Bella y sola
La mariposa no quiere batir sus alas...
Batir sus alas

Anclada en mi reposar
Absorbe partes de mi ser

Ser, luego pensar
Pensar y luego nada
Nadando pienso en el después

Alas heladas
Las frías cómplices del mal

Vuelvo a soñar con miradas que nunca me verán
Vuelvo a soñar con un triste final
Y en mis sueños nadie llora por mi desvanecer

Sus caminos siguen y a mi me persiguen mis pasos

Ser, luego pensar
Pensar y luego nada
Nadando pienso en el después

Alas rotas
Desde el olvido os lloraré



EL INVIERNO, LA MARIPOSA Y EL DIABLO

Feel that ecstasy when the bear comes. At first it approaches slowly, then suddenly the power explodes. That feeling motivated me in this music.

Here Is the Bear

Here is the bear

Hard-hitting riffs and emotive melodies. Separation from Soul is a cathartic, reflective exploration of loss.

Circumambulate

OK, true, we already released a song today, and you're probably still sipping your coffee from https://soundcloud.com/beatingedge/my-coffee-and-me.
But we just had to drop this instrumental too (OK, to be honest, it was our nerdy keyboard player Mauro who absolutely insisted on it), a little tribute to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Commodore Amiga (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amiga)! 🎂💾
On July 23, 1985, the legendary Commodore Amiga was unveiled at New York’s Lincoln Center, with the iconic Andy Warhol as its godfather and the fantastic Debbie Harry from Blondie adding star power to the event.
The Amiga was a beast for its time: 8-bit samples, thousands of colors (32 out of 4096 at first, then 256+ with AGA), and the legendary HAM mode.
A machine that changed the game and inspired this track.
All our Chiptune tracks are here: soundcloud.com/beatingedge/sets/8-bit-vibes.
©2025 Beating Edge

Boing Ball (Instrumental - Chiptune)

Pearl is a meditation in sound — a quiet exploration of beauty formed through time and pressure. Like the gem it’s named after, the piece reveals warmth and clarity from within stillness. A musical reflection for those moments when words aren’t enough. Part of the Neosphere series.

Pearl

Along The Road

Para escuchar la versión instrumental  https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/por-un-beso-tuyo-version-instrumental
Para escuchar la versión original  https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/por-un-beso-tuyo-version-original-ver-texto
Para escuchar la versión con Dazz Deva   https://soundcloud.com/juan-fco-bueno/por-un-beso-tuyo

POR UN BESO TUYO

Me siento como una fiera
al verte huyendo de mí
no me permites siquiera
sentarme cerca de ti.

Me tachas de pegajoso
porque te quiero besar
y que es el mío un acoso
que no puedes soportar.

Simplemente te diré
que el amor es otra cosa
que el fantasma del ayer
pesa en ti como una losa.

Estribillo

Por un beso tuyo
por tenerte cerca
por abrir la puerta
de tu corazón
detendría el mundo
mataría el miedo
besaría el cielo
por su comprensión.

Por un beso tuyo,
ese que aún no has dado
porque lo has guardado
muy dentro de ti,
abriría un surco
en mi pensamiento,
sembraría aliento
para proseguir.

----------------

Me acusas de teatrero
de  despreciar la moral
de anidar en mi cerebro
el gran pecado mortal

Simplemente te diré
que no soy un perturbado:
mi único pecado es...
es quererte demasiado.

Estribillo

FOR A KISS FROM YOU

I feel like a beast
seeing you running away from me
you won't even let me
sit near you.

You call me clingy
because I want to kiss you
and that mine is a harassment
you can't bear.

I'll simply tell you
that love is something else
but the ghost of yesterday
weighs on you like a stone.

Chorus

For a kiss from you
to have you near
to open the door
to your heart
I would stop the world
I would kill fear
I would kiss the sky
for its understanding.

For a kiss from you,
the one you haven't given yet
because you've kept it
deep inside you,
it would open a furrow
in my thoughts,
it would sow encouragement
to continue.

----------------

You accuse me of being theatrical
of scorning morality
of harboring in my brain
the great mortal sin

I'll simply tell you
that I'm not a lunatic:
my only sin is...
is loving you too much.

Chorus

Por un beso tuyo

Sexobject

Alas de Cuervo

Above it all — eSTRANGEd couSINs

A dirge that breathes through ruin. Above it all is a monolithic descent into grief rendered as sound — a doom/sludge requiem tuned to Drop C and built from the wreckage of loss. Guitars crawl like rusted machinery, each chord dragging gravel and bone, soaked in tube burn and the hum of dying amps. Bass coils beneath it, slow and tectonic, shaking the floorboards with a growl that feels alive. Drums hit like falling masonry — every snare a collapse, every cymbal a hiss of dust rising.

The voice — fractured, human, and haunted — cuts through the density with raw, flesh-torn resonance. There are no choruses here, no verses to cling to. Just the pulse of grief repeating, reforming, eroding itself. The track expands like smoke inside a sealed room: crushing, meditative, unmerciful.

eSTRANGEd couSINs summon the weight of Electric Wizard, YOB, and Conan, but with something lonelier threading the cracks — the sound of loss that refuses to die. Above it all isn’t about transcendence. It’s about what you hear when the collapse finally stops echoing, and you realize you’re still breathing beneath it.

Phantom's Plight

A guy from Boston who likes to make prog metal music.

Circumambulate

Mike Dedrick