Yea, though I walk in the shadow of life
I walk beneath the palely glimmering star
burning on His brow
Lord of the Fallen, Lord of Flickering Light;
a silent sigh mounting to screaming ecstasy
flows through all my days
from doom-blighted dawn
to final, irrevocable night.
Yea, though I am denied the tranquility of death
these muddy coloured lands I must traverse
are but shifting stains
upon the palm of His hand
whereon are etched the thin fortunes
of every man and beast
easily cast aside
or caught up in an angry fist
to smite the intransigent Heavens.
Ah, but the Lord of Darkness is merciful
and sends his featherwinged Angels
to minister unto me in the wilderness,
bequiling my senses and mind
with intimations of peace and equilibrium
by which my tortured soul might bear
the trials and derision of jealous Gods,
Autocrats and Lesser Princes of Mundane
and Sublunar Realms
engaged in constant war and strife
over the writhing maggots
and tender new shoots of Life.
Brothers of smokey amethyst
and sisters of sweet flesh:
we move, we crawl, we cavort and dance
in a constantly writhing net
- marrionettes of tangled desire
subject to cold Antarctic winds
scorched by relentless and unforgiving fire;
but, shouldering our terrible burdens
we call upon His Ancient Name:
Lucifer Hearts-ease, Demiurge-in-Exile,
Primordial Fool of the Creator,
Immaculate Pretender,
Master of the Never-ending Game,
Lord of Sorrows and Laughter
- guide us over the Mountains of Madness
to the shore of the Undying Land
beyond all strife and Disaster...
I walk beneath the palely glimmering star
burning on His brow
Lord of the Fallen, Lord of Flickering Light;
a silent sigh mounting to screaming ecstasy
flows through all my days
from doom-blighted dawn
to final, irrevocable night.
Yea, though I am denied the tranquility of death
these muddy coloured lands I must traverse
are but shifting stains
upon the palm of His hand
whereon are etched the thin fortunes
of every man and beast
easily cast aside
or caught up in an angry fist
to smite the intransigent Heavens.
Ah, but the Lord of Darkness is merciful
and sends his featherwinged Angels
to minister unto me in the wilderness,
bequiling my senses and mind
with intimations of peace and equilibrium
by which my tortured soul might bear
the trials and derision of jealous Gods,
Autocrats and Lesser Princes of Mundane
and Sublunar Realms
engaged in constant war and strife
over the writhing maggots
and tender new shoots of Life.
Brothers of smokey amethyst
and sisters of sweet flesh:
we move, we crawl, we cavort and dance
in a constantly writhing net
- marrionettes of tangled desire
subject to cold Antarctic winds
scorched by relentless and unforgiving fire;
but, shouldering our terrible burdens
we call upon His Ancient Name:
Lucifer Hearts-ease, Demiurge-in-Exile,
Primordial Fool of the Creator,
Immaculate Pretender,
Master of the Never-ending Game,
Lord of Sorrows and Laughter
- guide us over the Mountains of Madness
to the shore of the Undying Land
beyond all strife and Disaster...
