Impression I

when they find your flesh inside me
don’t look backwards
hush, hush

fear my inner gaze, unstilled longing
streams of piercing love
love

how dull the blade
deep in the breast  
embrace

the steaming blood
ascends
beyond the moon
beyond the realm of death 

oh heart
hanging over the flame
the sun
The essence of all that I was

see the flowing come together?
deep embrace, babe
hush, hush 

in the dream world
there you’ll find me
nourished on our love 
love

The Steam of Blood Ascends Beyond The Moon

Near the vein, 
hides the root of a tree stripped of leaves.
Nightingale echo’s songs from the deep.
On the eastern wind travels a flame.
boughs ignite
take flight
Become

Life of a star
in death we are

At the end
of the dim bitter dream shines The One
radiant 
eternal

From the spear
flow the hours where all misery fades
bathed in light 
bathed in light 

On a grave 
fell the fruit of a tree absently 
Nightingale echo’s songs from the deep.
When the western wind carries a flame.
boughs ignite
take flight
Become

Life of a star
in death we are



False Concept of Voyage

over the backbone it crawls, 
last red aglimmer
near draws the chill of darkness,
Father

hear now those trembling tones,
church bells are ringing
raise up your blade to heaven.
rejoice

Longing's End

Untame love writhed,
revealed a geist 

Her wound opened; 
It rained down moon silvery rays

away
love you
 
away
love you

devoured your light 
drank it completely

Congealed lust writhed alone 
jilted in denial


away
love you

devoured your light 
drank it completely


Poltergeist

A funereal echo emanates from deep within the abandoned outskirts of Antigo, Wisconsin.

Hidden among the rusty detritus of a long-since boarded up pea canning factory you will find the Tiki Room, and nestled within its hundreds of Polynesian idols and unused bar ware resides our mournful heroes, Wyrding. A group of reunited childhood friends, Wyrding set forth to take the slow, agonic sounds of the early Finnish "funeral doom" sound, translated into a lyric-based "word ritual" setting. Performed entirely on acoustic instruments, that is to say, stripped of their predecessors' volume and bombast, Wyrding concentrates on the style's essence: raw emotion, atmosphere, and a distinct concentration on melody. A play on the old word for "fate" or "destiny," Wyrding's celestial, doomed folk sounds were derived from an aleatoric re-arranging of words, using chance to define structure. It was fate, nay, Wyrd which reunited these wayward souls, and it was Wyrd which defines their unique, mournful sound.

- Jon Rosenthal