Song of the stones
Somewhere is a temple about which you know nothing
for man has abandoned and forgotten about it
The stones of the temple were not laid by disciples
but by people enslaved in the name of a god. 
Belief dwell in fingers, in the outermost skin
it is nourished by touching both angels and demons
And the skin from the working hands remained on the walls
for they bled when they built it and enchanted the stones
So when the temple was standing and the infidels killed
the temple would not serve the slave drivers god.

Song of the creeper
Now the creepers have grown since a time long forgotten
They have strangled the pillars and they've grown through the walls
They have crept in the cracks of the stones and the symbols
They have broken them all down to pebbles and dust 
The branches are thick and they keep getting thicker
connected by thousands of offshoots and leaves
They've replaced all constructions, all the pillars and walls
with a plant grit much stronger and lighter than stone
And they mimic the pillars and the arches and walls
for the plants they remember and respect the enslaved

Song of the insects
On the creeper live millions and millions of insects 
in a flock so dense that no light can pass through it
The insects constantly crawl in and out of each other
in a system obscure to all humans and gods   
They cover the walls and the floor and the ceiling
A mass that is vibrant but looks still from afar
All critters have sounds that they make at all times
and they blend in the halls in a deafening noise
commenced more than a thousand generations ago
And the choir grows larger and louder with    each day

Song of the dead insects
When it is time for an insect to recede into death
and its body falls down and it lands on the ground
it is carried with care on the backs of the others
to a bottomless vessel centred in the temple
The dead are put to rest here stacked in countless layers
and their souls rise up like the smoke from a fire
and they seep through the cracks in the ceiling above
Any bird on the roof feels streams of ghosts run through it 
Exoskeletons sink slowly down in the ground
where hordes of worms eat them so they mix with the soil 

Song of the flowers
Few/close to no plants can grow in the exoskeleton soil
but a tiny white flower grows all over the place
It is called by the name of The Sleepwalkers Light
for it glows in the dark with an eerie blue gleam
As the worms they keep eating, the flower carpet expands 
It seeps from the temple like a pool of ghost milk 	
Slowly all plants and trees withdraw their roots and retreat
No beasts dare come near it, for the scent is not from this world
but all those with six legs are spellbound by the light
They emerge from the dark to join the roaring choir

Frederik Exner Carstens

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