Black Mass For The Last Millennium

The black sea roars like a speech

Demons of the deep are merciless

Cast your fear about for a candle

Drawn from the tongue of this dark shore

The One Who Watches steps forth

With the World-Tree for a heart

Her fires inverted crosses

Not for Satan Not for God

But for the pagan beyond the human lust for names.

She wears a night-cloak and a gown

Woven from the void. Her feet are bare to feel the earth

As it was before human wreckage.

Blood and salt are her baptism

On this sand eons old

Her axe chants in the voice of animals

Uncorrupted and fierce

You cannot hear her anymore

But in the smallest grain she waits

To behold the divested planet

After the Self-Sacrificed species

Has rotted beyond its bones

To become the soil from which it came

And the wind through which her singing

Manifests the last mass of our loss.