The Darkest Hour

The Darkest Hour

Caym:

With gesture I call you, O stranger unknown...

The Grove:

Ye nasty knight came wriggling down

among the tangled pillars

where's nothing to be done but hold your ground

thus hold on to your head!

Tell how ye move about

in spite of all the rules we've to attend to...

where the life does end?

Peter:

For, I was very anxious to be of use:

they wept and prayed for miserable hand

'All of you may treat me as a friend

- I said -

where the life does end'.

Caym:

Well, that's my fault,

for keeping my eyes open...

If I'd shut them tight up,

It would not have happened

my friend...

where the life does end'

If I only knew -

indeed! -

I wouldn't have been penalised!

Peter:

I had far better help you hadn't I?

Caym:

You'd better keep an open eye!

As ours, sooth to say, were nowhere to be found

and now we've lost 'em - we are blind!

Caacrinolaas:

They are gone! -

There is more evidence to come yet

...where the life does end!

Peter:

So he went on with closed eyes

and half forgotten grove he'd seen...

though he knew he had but to open them again

and all would change to dull reality.

Both with Caym:

If I only knew I wouldn't have been

so foolish penalised!

Caym:

And now we've got indeed

immortal and uncanny sight!

Quite liquid one for sleepless kin

with their forever watchful eye!

Behold them folded roaring,

swarming loudly in the dead of night!

Caacrinolaas:

Ye seem to be dead!

Ye have fed the vermin with

your foliage - that's the reason why ye weep!

Ye shall reveal

your skin's all 'round the pew:

ye asked much more than your god could endure

The Grove:

We all were the people - now we are the pillars!

Watch as your almighty god does kill his children!

Watch the nonsense that

shall decimate his creatures!

Would you like to feel the charm of our adventures?

Caym:

We all got in this trap - we have gotten...

We were fools but we have forgotten

way we used to be - seed we used to sow!

We all are the pillars and so is our lord!

Caacrinolaas:

Chase the castaway

who's been haunting the catafalque!

Since his death he screams: 'take them away!

'Take away them all:

those bones from my poor corpse,

I won't endure the dead inside the trunk of mine!'

Only daemons know

where those weeping pillars grow.

They are standing like a wall...

having confirmed their own request -

they have embodied that chest

or any wooden thing we know!

Caym:

I do not suppose there will be a tree left standing

for ever so far round,

by the time they've finished such chat!

Caacrinolaas:

Deeply he sighed and drew his palm

looking more like branch

than anything else across his eyes

he wept already out!

Caym:

There's hot blood dropping down

from the ancient vaults every now and then

and if something wasn't done about it

in less than no time -

there would be a pool full of blood:

sacred one - result of such obedience!

Caacrinolaas speaking triumphantly:

An unjust verdict will be worth while impunity!

You will hear the tangled sentence made anew

so sheer guile will reign again indignantly!

Only ye repine against your fate!

The Grove:

Our pain!

Caacrinolaas:

Won't we receive the Eucharist again!?

The Grove:

Ye ask in vain!

Caacrinolaas:

Ye seem to be dead -

The Grove:

Nobody knows

Caacrinolaas:

Ye seem to be deaf -

The Grove:

When we all arose

Oze:

They seem to be sad -

Caym to Peter:

So we ask you not to be afraid!

Caacrinolaas:

As ye strive to forget in vain

Caym:

Our stranger,

we shouldn't have been blind -

ye should disdain us!

We seem to be deaf (nobody mourns),

we seem to be dead (o'er our loss)!

But all of us do mourn over our death!

Do not be so deaf

(it must be divulged),

do not be so dead

(ye should not disdain),

do not be so blind!

(so now we know we cry in vain)...

Caacrinolaas:

Now ye'll observe

the way our nameless master does

transform his wights from the people

to the grove or to the grass.

We will reveal you that device -

do not be surprised enormously...

The Grove:

We've wept -

We've cried with million tears for years!

Though, it seems to us

we'll never disappear.

Caacrinolaas:

And so will your torture!

The Grove:

If not the water so what drops down

from our branches?

Would you like to feel the charm of our adventures?

Oze:

Claim from shelves for your very own

that scenario of thine!

Now peruse carefully!

You think o'er your eternal lot

to be alive disappearing down the throat

of imps and evil demons

will make your feathers fly anon!

Caacrinolaas in defiance of Caym:

Note that darkness was almost complete

and you could see nothing much beyond your hands' stretch!

Note that 'twas getting deep dusk

when the eyes make things greater

than they should be!

Mind you!

By no means out of the fens

will come drifting a stench,

not the sticky odour of decay,

but a foul reek,

as if filth unnameable were piled

and hoarded in the dark within...

All around you,

deep within the gnarly grove,

all around this halloo-holt...

heavy, still and stagnant air

where any sound fell dead,

where any tree fell dead!

Prick up your ears at this:

'Unlike we are and yet also much akin'.

Caym:

In couples they've been waltzing,

exhausting each other.

In couples they'll circle till somebody's dead

Why won't sister murder - for instance -

her brother?

Why won't she pursue him to bed or to death?

Subconsciously tomb does smile

through every mirror.

Your face is to impact against wretched grimace!

You're terribly frightened all the time at the thought

that it might be hungry - for you, in which case

That exquisite one would be very likely

to eat you up in spite of all your coaxing smiles!

And everyone will tell:

that's nothing to what I could say

if I chose... e'en if nobody dies!

So if you drink much

from the bottle marked "poison"

it is almost certain to disagree with you

sooner or later... but would it be any use now

to speak to the dead or to speak to the imp?

The beast has been buried and sealed for the ages

so that was a narrow escape... for the dead

like you

(immense way you've been betrayed since forever).

Caacrinolaas:

Come! It's no use in crying like that!

THE DARKEST HOUR

Caym:

...And naught was found in thief's chest

but his curse!

And loth was he to render up the keys!

Caacrinolaas:

All woes will follow you like crows or urgent flies

- he cries -

and e'er the oftener the worse shall they become!

Peter:

Due west I faintly glimpsed a long dark line.

Alas, 'twas difficult to learn from it for certain

O - anything but hideous hint at death;

but laughing roar around: 'Defeat again most likely!'

...The trail was long cold when I took it up again...

Would weeper not have suited it far better?

He'd have ransacked

and sniffed that ghastly matter

as no one else would have... and none's to blame!

That bloodstained grass did render active all

incentives to get shape of holy holt.

I had beheld in all its splendid horror

prosperity in bloom before the dawn;

Trees all around me spoke in tongue of pain

and there was no response!

Caacrinolaas:

You cry in vain!

Arthur's voice sounding from afar & high above:

My brothers and my sisters! Test that seed!

Caacrinolaas:

The acorn as the symbol and - you'll see

Arthur's voice sounding from afar & high above:

Yield of your faith and wisdom shall arise

Caacrinolaas triumphantly to Caym:

Your livid souls are freed to plunder!

Arthur's distant voice with Caacrinolaas' growl

from somewhere below:

Rise!

Peter:

All thicket wept and sang this gloomy song:

'The darkest hour is that before the dawn'

Caacrinolaas:

The fault at the conclave

had been bearing resemblance with death:

No more faith

Just before twisted roots got entangled together

they'd stood holy forever!

Hallowed be thy dome and thy brotherhood!

Peter:

That bloodstained grass did render active all

incentives to get shape of howling holy holt...

I had beheld in all its splendid horror

prosperity in bloom before the dawn;

Caym:

Atrociously I am describing the debt

so usual in grim and whispering kingdom

of your personality:

nobody met and no one has seen your last will off

through the mist of disease silly stranger...

you will be deceived by that grove!

LiAlveL of TMT: I:11, II:22, III:33

Oze:

Defeat at the conclave

is bearing resemblance with death:

no more faith!

Just before twisted roots got entangled together

you'd been holy forever.

Hallowed be thy dome and thy brotherhood.