andra

Voices call and keep me awake. I see a stone carved sing rotting in a deep silence, as deep as in the womb once. Fog makes emptiness vaster as mute feathers fly away hidden under the dark cloak of

The ashes of the feelings past Circle the holy fire of my soul Which only breeds just smoke and dust About the Great Sleep in the hole. Dying each day I see my burning ashes, Fading away as

Alas, the sky is bright... I keep hearing voices from the past and in my wake i darken. I am sinking inside myself as into a grave. In a depressed expectancy i scream in pain but it never seems to

in your eyes the cosmic darkness in your voice sounds of distress on your face aeons, their violence in your soul horrible mess... and silence....

from autumn mists let sorrow come with red stained wrists i\'ll wash the dawn...